Time of Prophecy
by Sorceress Cassandra180
Summary: For years, she has been the prisoner of a vicious tyrant who wishes to become the King of Legend. For years she has only had that hope that one would help her escape. Now that one has come... And nothing will be the same
1. The Beginning

_**TIME OF PROPHECY**_

**_By Sorceress Cassandra180_**

_**Disclaimer-** Dispite the fact Cassandra is my namesake, and I spend great deal of drooling over The Rock, I sadly own nothing. Everything is owned by Universal, their screen writers, and Max Allan Collins. _

_I'm nothing more or less then a young women who wishes to tell the story through another's eyes. _

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PROLOGUE

_**THE BEGINNING**_

_"They say knowledge is power, but I say it is a poisin…"_

_-Kaileena on the Predetermined fate of the Empress of Time from **Prince of Persia Warrior Within**_

**T**he story I wish to tell you, happened. It happened long ago in a time before the sands were towered with the monuments of the kingdom of the pharaohs. But before I can tell you anything else, I must tell you, of something that came before the time my tale was lived. A tale that you must hear in order to fully comprehend my story.

A long time ago there was a small poor, yet humble village of farmers, warriors, wives, husbands, and children. Each family lived in a one room mud brick hut.

But in one hut in particular a young girl sat behind her black mirror in the shadows of the small mud brick home. The images that she saw in its depths where not arranged by time.

"Daughter?" spoke musical voice, and the young girl glanced over.

The voice belonged to an exotic looking woman. Her skin had a golden hue; her hair was the color of obsidian and her eyes where an almond shape and they where as large as they where dark; the women was wearing a simple linen tunic and in her arms was a baby boy.

This woman was Nefertina, also called The Night Star. A great sorceress in her day, but that was long ago.

"What do you see?" She asked the girl.

The girl stood up and turned to face her mother. The light illuminated her visage. The girl may have been a mere eleven years old but the villagers had said her adult beauty was already starting to shine. Her skin had the same golden hue as her mother; her hair was the same obsidian; and her almond eyes had the same depth to them. But there was something more to her. Something…(as all the villagers put it) mystic, to her beauty. She too was wearing a simple linen tunic.

The girl sat by her mother and spoke, "I do not know, Mother, I have seen fire and chaos but I, honestly, do not know where nor when"

"Time will tell," said her mother lightly.

The girl gave small shrug and sat next to her mother. As she did she felt icy cold shivers go down her body, through her very being.

"Daughter?" said her mother with concern.

"Mother," the girl, said her eyes wide. "Something is going to happen to us something…Diabolic".

There was a sound in her front yard, the sound of horse hooves. What was happening? The girl ran to her front door and pulled it open. What she saw made her gasp, hands fly to her mouth in surprise.

In her yard where five soldiers. Four of them where wearing red turbans and had bronze swords it their cuirasses. All of them rode on simple brown horses. All of them but one…

Their leader was wearing silver chain mail and had two swords in his cuirass; his ride was a black steed. His skin was a light tan, the sides of his head was shaven his fine skull had a shock of black hair long and braided in to warrior's braids. He may have been beautiful yet he was virile. Any who did not know his name knew him by his manner.

He was a warlord.

The soldiers and their leader dismounted.

It was then the girl's father appeared. He was a warrior in his own right. His hair was long and dark, his skin a deep tan, his eyes matched the girl's (dark) and he had battle markings on his face, on his belt was a sharpen knife that he always had. Just in case.

The girl's father went to the warlord and said in a strong sure voice, "Can I help you, Sir?"

"Yes, I am called the Great Teacher," said the warlord, " and I am here to see The Night Star's daughter. The girl-child that, it has been said, sees with the eyes of the gods".

It was then the warlord's cold eyes fell onto the girl. She felt another icy cold chill course through her soul. She looked down to her sandals.

"I wished to see if the rumors where true," continued the warlord.

Her father nodded and went to the girl, and escorted her to the warlord.

"_Father," _she said, softly, in his mind, _"something doesn_'_t feel right._"

"I know, my little Jasmine." He said, whispering his nickname for her. "Just do as he asks, and he'll leave us alone".

The girl nodded not at all patience for this man with his sinister eyes to leave her and her family alone and disturb someone else with his evil presence. Soon enough she stood before the warlord, fighting her urge to run, as far as she could, the other way.

"This is her?" said the warlord surprised, "this is Nefertina's daughter?"

"Yes".

"This is the image of an angel!"

The girl said nothing in response. She couldn't find her voice. She just stared blankly at him.

"Come with me, Young Angel", said the warlord, offering her his hand.

Swallowing, trembling, and vary reluctantly she took it. He led her to his four waiting soldiers. All of whom where waiting at attention.

"Now, Young Angel, tell me the names of these men", said the warlord to the girl.

It was then she found her voice. "Sir, what if I am not correct on a name?" she asked in a strong voice.

She wished she hadn't said it after what happened next.

The Great Teacher (as he had called himself) smiled a cold, heartless, blood-chilling smile, and whispered in her ear, his message for her and her alone, "If you are wrong I will kill that man. I will kill every man whose name you have guessed wrong. Then I will move onto the rest of your petty village, until only you and I are left alive."

She gasped. She glanced to her father her eyes full of fear. Then she looked to this man. Was he bluffing? Was it a lie just to make her tremble so? Was it a bribe to make her get her answers right to impress him? Or was he truly a monster? She looked in to his eyes to see.

The man, the warlord, was not lying. He was deadly serious.

Quickly, she went to every one of the soldiers. Greeting, and saying their names. The soldiers looked surprised (how did this girl they had never seen know their names?) so did the warlord. She surmised that she had gotten them all right.

"Is that all you wished, Sir? Or is there something else you wished of me?" she asked. Praying to the gods above that he would say no.

"No", he said, (she could breathe again) still surprised. "No, that is all".

She nodded and walked to her father. The Great Teacher went to his horse, as did his soldiers.

Then it happened.

A vision seared through her brain, her being. She fell to her knees, her palms pressed against her forehead. Her father ran to her side, knowing well what was happening. Every villager stopped to watch her; they all know her power.

It was then she ripped her hands from her forehead. Her eyes darker than usual

A golden emblem flashed in her eyes. She spoke in a voice unlike her own; it was deep and resounding. It seemed to echo off the deadly silence and into the distance…

… Like the voice of the gods.

"_**I**N A **M**ERE **T**EN **Y**EARS **F**ROM **N**OW **T**HE **A**CHIENT **P**ROPHCEY **WILL BE APON US**_" She spoke.

"_**B**Y **T**OLLING **B**ELL **A**ND **T**HUNDER'S **S**WELL. **A** **F**LAMEING **S**TAR **S**HALL **F**ALL **F**ROM **T**HE **S**KY. **B**Y A **F**ULL **M**OON'S **G**LOW, **I**N **H**OUSE **O**F **S**CORPIO, **K**NELLING **M**EN **S**HALL **B**OW **T**O **T**HE **K**ING **O**N **H**IGH._"

It was then she fell, losing consciousness into the waiting arms of her father. Then the dark warlord mounted on his horse, and rode off slowly understanding her prophecy…

---

It was nights later, while her father sharpened a hatchet size scythe and her mother was take care of her baby brother, the girl found herself in front of her black mirror once agian. In it she saw…

…_A full moon that shined so bright that it rivaled the sun. On it was a scorpion symbol. Flames framed the peaceful night sky. It was then a shadowed, godlike figure appeared..._

…She leaned forward, now interested… 

… _It was then the shadow parted from his features…_

…She gasped. She knew him from somewhere. But where? Her dreams? A vision long ago seen but now forgotten? Before she could tell a loud **BAM** interrupted her thoughts.

She looked up to see the door be yanked off its hinges. And four familiar soldiers bashed through the door.

"Get the girl and her mother," said one.

Suddenly her father ran at the soldiers, swinging his kama. Two of them swept past her father one of them grabbed her, and threw her over his shoulder. Her black mirror fell to the floor and shattered into pieces. It's image now lost and was later forgotten. Her mother was knocked out and was slung over his shoulder. Suddenly there was the sickening sound of metal interring flesh.

"Father! NO!"

She saw the soldier rip his blade out of her father, his blade stained with the blood. Then her baby brother started to cry. She saw a soldier hold his blade above the infant, but then she was rushed outside before she could see it come crashing down.

Outside, was utter chaos, other soldiers killed anything that breathed and burned anything that could burn. She could hear the screams of children, women, and men as they met their end. Tears blurred her eyes. These people where her friends and they where being killed in front of her.

The sight of the carnage was one she would carry for the rest of her life.

The girl tried to fight he captors, but resistanceagianst them was futile. For all where greatly strong brutes.

Her mother was thrown on to a horse as she tried to fight her captors.

"Put the girl on a horse with Thorak," said a soldier.

"No", said a familiar voice. "She rides with me".

She looked up to see _him, _The Great Teacher!

"You!" she gasped.

He smiled a grim smile and pulled her on to his horse.

As they rode off she turned to see her home, her peaceful village, burn to the ground. She had lost everything now. That she knew. She also knew another horrifying fact. Her prediction, her prophecy, that she had days before had come true.

---

As the years passed the girl grew in the ways of sorcery, and the ways of the soothsayer.

She stayed with her mother, learning these ways under the watchful eye of The Great Teacher.

Until one day, when she was thirteen she and her mother, a former sorceress, devised a plan for her to escape.

They knew what The Great Teacher planned to do.

He planned to use her, as a weapon of war to murder a countless many and become the king of the Ancient Prophecy that she had predicted would come true with in ten years.

As soon as she had learned what she needed, she fled into the desert. There she met a young boy who was also in the desert for a short wile. The girl befriended him and he vowed to help her after hearing a part of her story.

But this was not to be.

Just as freedom was in her reach, she was captured by the Great Teacher's men, trying to save the young boy.

Never agian would she see her new friend agian. She realized this as she was carried away by her captor's right hand man, the boy fadeing into the distance.

---

The next day, she was brought to the Great Teacher's tent by his soldiers. His back was turned to the girl, so she could not see his face. But, as she looked around, she saw the warlord was not alone.

The girl's mother was also in the tent. Her hands tied behind her back. Pinioned in such away, like an accused facing an executioner.

At once her heart fell.

"You," Spoke the Great Teacher to the former sorceress bitterly, like someone uttering a horrid curse.

"**_HOW DARE YOU!_** I have let you live, only for the sake of your daughter! I needed some one to teach her the ways of sorcery, not the ways of treason!"

"You speak as if you 're already King," spoke Nefertina. "You will _never_ be the King favored by the gods, _Barbarian_! You're a _vile_, **_heartless_**-!"

"SILENCE!"

The air in the tent was thick with a dark ominous feeling of death.

The girl trembled, in her heart she knew what would happen.

The warlord turn to the Night Star. He sized her by the bottom of her chin and turned her blank beautiful face, free of countenance to her daughter.

"Gaze at your daughter good and well, witch!" He said pulling out his sword. "It will be the _last_ thing you see!"

The girl screamed, "NO!"

She tried to fight the grasp of the two soldiers who had her but her forearms, with no avial.

The warlord made a brandishing movement with his sword, and suddenly, her mother's neck was sliced open.

The girl's heart shattered as she watched her mother, her teacher, her only family now died before her.

- - -

That night the girl went back to her tent, weeping, grieving, blaming herself and cursing her, so called "gifts" of prophecy and magic.

She wanted to die, to kill herself. With her mother gone she felt like an empty shell, there was nothing for her to live for anymore. But as she grabbed the knife, and raised it above to stab her heart her head a flash of a vision sized her.

She saw…

…_a man, an Akkadian warrior stealing her away from a towering city. And away from the Red Guard the wretched warlord commanded…_

She lowed the knife and put the knife aside.

The gods had spoken, and she would be committing the most ultimate sin of her kind not to follow their wishes.

---

Now, I know, dear reader, what you must be thinking since I have told you thissmalltale of mine.

Who is this girl?

Who is that warlord?

And why does this small, so rather sad, tale play such an important role inthe story I wish to tell you?

I shall tell you, and answer those questions.

I was that young girl.

Yes, at eleven I watched my life burn away. I witnessed my dear mother's death, as well as the death of many other's. By the hand of The Great Teacher, that you may know better as Memnon.

Many may know the story of The Time of Prophecy, and of Mathayus, the Scorpion King.

The story of a time where the world learned that it could create it's own destiny. And a man who created a kingdom known throughout the ages.

Over the thousands of years Mathayus has become a man of legend, and myth. Personified as a man, and a monster.

But I wish you to please hear the story of what _really_ happened from one who lived it. The story where, even I learned that a mortal could change the course of the future. The story lost to desert winds. My story.

I am Cassandra, a Daughter of the Furies,also called The Sorceress by the many other storytellers than myself.

And this is the true tale of the Time of Prophecy.


	2. Rise of Memnon

**_1_**

**_THE RISE OF MEMNON_**

"_I'm frightened by what I see _

_By somehow I know that there's more to come_

_Immobilized by my fear_

_And soon to be _

_Blinded by tears"_

_-Evanescence's **Whisper**_

**I** have told you I lived in the clutches of Memnon, and his army for many, many years then I care to remember. Years that were all a blur of bloody victories, screams of innocents, and other pains that no one could ever imagine.

As time played it's cruel trick, Memnon came to receive high power. He overthrew the king of his hometown, Gomorrah. And gained more recruits in his (thanks to me) unstoppable army.

I kept my self alive, knowing it was the gods will. My perseverance paid off, when I was eighteen I received another vision. An Akkadian warrior pulling out a magnificent sword out of a stone statue base.

I knew who this was instantly.

I had seen him before, years ago, when I was to be the one to take my own life.

I received several other visions of this assassin over the next two years. Visions of him going off to distant places, and meeting different peoples.

I, later, came to know his name: Mathayus. I never reviled any of this to Memnon, for I knew that Mathayus was the only one who could help me escape the clutches of this monster. If I was to tell Memnon, I knew he would not rest until Mathayus was found and killed. It was something I could not allow.

Something that I wouldn't allow.

---

One day, sometime after I had learned the assassin's name, I found myself in my chambers of Memnon's royal place. I stood on my balcony that overlooked the golden dunes of the desert, on this particular day the sun was just setting and I stood there, deep in thought. 

I was dressed in a halter of sliver and gold, a long skirt made of the finest golden cloth, a regal headdress that proclaimed my authority.

Many may say I was a girl of privilege to be taken up from the poor family that I was born into, and become the royal oracle of a conqueror like the Great Teacher.

I only felt like a caged animal. Wearing clothes that (although pretty and acceptable during my time) showed enough skin to make me feel like a prized object shown to gain favor. It didn't help that Memnon forced me into predicting the deaths of faces that forever haunted my nightmares.

I stood there, wishing that there was someway that I, by myself, could escape this golden prison. But deep in my heart, I knew I could not; memories of that last time haunted my soul and I knew it would result in only one thing: Memnon would just kill more. Kill until he found me.

I felt like a human sacrifice.

Suddenly a young voice broke my thoughts.

"Milady?"

I turned to see a young slave boy who must have been no older then twelve years (no doubt from one of Memnon's conquered tribes), standing near my door. He wore a simple striped linen skirt and headdress. The boy was bowing so low, as if to the mercy of a sword should I have been carrying one.

"Lord Memnon, requests your presence at the meeting with his generals," the boy said softly.

"In the throne room?" I asked.

The boy nodded, and muttered, "Yes, Great Sorceress"

At this I sighed. Knowing what this truly met.

Memnon wished to show me, his _pet_, off to his generals. To use my power as he had been using it for the past ten years. I was no human to him, only a pawn in his master plan.

"Very well," I spoke, softly. "I shall come at my lord's calling."

The boy bowed and left silently.

As I went to the door I passed my giant silver polished mirror. For a brief second I glanced at the face that had become my own.

I had grown to look like my mother as well as my father. I had my mother's gold skin, long dark eyes and long dark silky hair. I had my father's thin lips, slightly arched eyebrows.

Many say I was beautiful, but I see with no eyes but my own. And urrently those "beautiful" features that were now pulled into a blank mask.

I went into the corridors. At my side where my handmaidens, as well as my many bodyguards.

For the past few days, The Great Teacher seemed to be on edge, worried about my safety. So he gave me more handmaidens to tend my every need, and bodyguards to watch my every move. I supposed he wished to gain my favor, instead he only increased my hatred. Limiting what little freedom I already had.

I strolled through the halls of my golden cage, to "my" lord's throne room.

This regal throne room was more than fifty paces down it's marble floor, the sandstone walls were intracantly carved with beautiful sceanes and the writings of the founders of the city of Gomorrah. At the end of the hall was an exquisite throne made of sandstone and marble raised by a small set of steps, a large scorpion crest above it, and two ivory elephant tusks with their golden tipped ends pointing outward sitting on it's either side. To the right of the throne was a dark stone slab carved with the words of the ancient prophecy that I had foretold would come true all those years ago.

To the left of the grand throne was a table where Memnon, the Great Teacher, stood at in his best battle leathers speaking with several of his finest generals. One of them I recognized was Thorak, a man with a scarred face who had (as many have said before me) been personified as a human demon. This wicked man was Memnon's right hand.

At the sound of my footsteps Memnon and his congregation of generals looked up. Memnon stood up in respect of my coming, like I was an honered guest instead of the prisnor that I really was. Seeing this his generals mimiced his actions.

I stopped at least ten paces away from him and half bowed, my eyes downcast I spoke.

"I am here at you calling, My Lord."

"Cassandra," Memnon said. I could hear his footsteps as he drew closer to me.

I looked up to the man I had hated for almost all of my life, careful to leave no emotion on my face or in my eyes.

Memnon held out his arm. Dispite my turning stomach, I knew what the price would be if I refused. I took it and allowed him to escort me to my mystic table; A round table, small compared to the one where Memnon and his generals had sat at earlier, but big enough for me. On it was a map of papyrus paper made from the best mapmaker, depicting every thing from the insolated island of Crete to the icy cold mountains of the north. Just to the right of this map sat three clay jars, all filled with runic stones that have been in my mother's family for generations.

As I sat at my table a servant with a fan of white ostrich feathers appeared and started to wave cooler air in my direction, providing me with a slight breeze in the unbearable heat

I looked up to Memnon and his generals.

"What do you wish of me, My Lord?" I asked.

"As you know, My Sorceress, the people of Sumer grow weaker," Memnon said.

His generals nodded as Memnon continued.

"Our blockade of their food sources and supplies has weaken their defense."

I said nothing.

I had already knew this, for I was the one who told Memnon that the use of a blockade would lead to victory only in a later time.

"Now tell me, My Seer," Memnon said, leaning forward. "Will I be able to conquer the people of Sumer if I were to attack now?"

I took a deep breath and took several stones out of one if the jars on my table and started to put them onto the map.

I never really had a certain order that I put the stones in. The order just comes to me by instinct. Once I felt like I had put every stone in a proper place I lifted my left hand not far from the insignia where Sumer was, calling for a vision.

There was a slight shiver that went down my spine, then a flash of white that took me…

…_To a battlefield. Sumerian men fought courageous but they where tired from being so malnourished and saddened from watching there families hunt for food like dogs, so these poor people were no match for Memnon and his red turbaned warriors who fought like the most damned evil souls from the fires of the Netherworld._

_In less time than anyone could of thought possible the ranks were cut down to a small clan, rather than the army it had been._

Suddenly I felt another shiver as my vision shifted 

_Lines upon lines of Sumerains stood. Men, women, children, it made no difference._

_They stood both terrified as they knew their city was being burned to the ground and in pain, knowing that they had lost their sons, fathers, and husbands in the fight against Memnon._

_Lines of Memnon's finest Red Turbaned Archers stood, arrows knocked, surrounding the frightened people. From a line appeared Thorak on a brown horse._

"_Bow Before Lord Memnon, you insolate fools!" He yelled._

_And, there he appeared. Memnon riding his night black war horse with the air of arragontce._

_Instantly the people fell to their knees. Show the only sign of defeat, and utmost humbleness._

_Memnon surveyed the scene with his cruel, unforgiving dark eyes._

_He looked to his men and nodded._

_At once thousands upon thousands of arrows let fly at the unarmed people of Sumer. Their screams hit the air like ink in water. Their hot, fusing pain, unmatched by any…_

…Then suddenly, it stopped.

The screaming, the pain. It stopped. I took several deep breaths as I tried to get a hold of myself.

I could still feel the fear the people felt as they were taken in front of Memnon and his men. The fresh anguish since they had lost sons, fathers, and husbands in the battle against the impossible. The pain as they finally met their end.

But I knew better, I kept this shared pain inside me. Long ago, I had set up defensive walls inside me. Otherwise, becoming a slave to my visions like many before me would be the price I would pay for having my "gift."

Feeling numb, I sat my hand down next to the map. I turned to Memnon and his congregation, staring at the marble floor.

"The Sumerians are weakened, their moral is low. Their physical strength will be no match for you or your men, My Lord," I informed Memnon and his generals.

Once I finished speaking, the generals turned to smile at each other like greedy children. No caring, or showing any humility at what pain they would cause.

Memnon gave me a thrumpht smile, obviously proud of my prediction.

"Very well, my Sorceress," He said.

With that he turned to his generals and continued to plan the next campaign. Leaving me with my own thoughts.

I looked back to the elaborate pattern that I had made with the stones on the map. I then glanced up to the north of the map, where the snow-packed mountain ranges and the craggy border marked the edge of this known world.

I felt a strange tug, compelling me to conjure a vision from those high frigid mountains.

Long ago, I had learned to trust my inner voice. So I held out my hand over the area on the map that there was snowcapped mountains.

At once, as if I where transported there by some magical force, I saw with startling clearness…

…_The Akkadian warrior, Mathayus, covered from head to foot in soot, emerging from the thick smoke and fire. His hood and pant legs where aflame, wreathing him in a hellish aura. A large bow in one hand and a magnificent gleaming scimitar in the other. _

_From his face opened his dark eyes wide, and a wider white smile._

_But Mathayus was not alone. Men, barbarians in furs with wiry, tangled nests of beards and hair where also in the cabin with him_ (I somehow knew this).

_They looked to the Akkadian, fearful. And they had good reason to feel afraid of him._

_Four of the barbarians lay at Mathayus feet, headless! Blood spilling from them._

_Mathayus looked at them with a terrible murderous smile._

_Seemingly crazed, he proclaimed to the barbarians, "I…Am…DEATH!"_

_That was all it took._

_Instantly, those superstitious fools ran for the doors of the cabin. Only few dared to grab furs before running in to the mountain wilderness._

_Meanwhile, Mathayus went to pat out the flames on his pants and hood. As he did so, another Akkadian bound eagle spread to a cross-crossed and tied together pair of beams came into veiw. This Akkadian had the same dark hair, and eyes as Mathayus. But unlike him he had a blue green triangle tattooed between his eyebrows, and lion paw prints marked cheekbones._

_This man I recognized as Mathayus' older brother, Jesup._

"_Hey!" Jesup said, as he tugged at his bindings, trying to free himself. "Don't you let them go!"_

_Mathayus ignored him openly, still patting out the flames._

"_I told them that you'd kill them all!" Jesup yelled. "Don't make a damned lair out of me!"_

_At this Mathayus sighed, and shook his head._

"_You're lucky we have the same mother," He said in a mock disapproving tone._

_And the younger Akkadian cut his brother's bindings…_

…Suddenly my vision shifted, taking me… 

_Outside the burning cabin Mathayus and Jesup where joined but their third brother. The brown hared and lightly tanned Rama, who like Jesup bore battle markings._

_The trio where tying bodies to a toboggan that was connedt to the reins of their horses. They where assassins, after all, and had a bounty to collect. It was their only way of survival in this world now that all of their kind had been mysterously killed off years ago._

_Jesup and Rama both mounted on their horses, ready to leave this desolate place of ice and snow, but one thing stopped them. _

_Mathayus. _

_His dark eyes were upward, surveying the heavens, as if looking for something._

"_Mathayus?" Rama said, curious at his brother's sudden hesitation._

"_Is there something wrong?" Asked Jesup, reading the slightly troubled look on the youngers face._

"_I like I am being…Watched," Mathayus said, his voice sounding distant._

_His two older brothers exchanged looks. They too were starting to feel that strange feeling that some unknown force was spying on them as well._

"_Well, if you are, maybe we should go," Jesup spoke up._

_Rama nodded._

_Mathayus just shrugged his shoulders and cracked the reins leaving the barbarian's cabin in smoldering embers behind them…_

"Cassandra?" Spoke a voice.

I held a hand up to my headdressed forehead, I glanced up to see Memnon looking at me. His generals staring at me as well.

"Are you alright?" Ask one of them. His name was Toran, I believe.

"I am well, Good Sir," I told him.

I then turned to Memnon.

" Forgive me, My lord," I spoke softly. "My mind wondered farther then I would of liked."

Memnon nodded.

"This day has been very trying for you", Memnon said. "I have asked you to have at least four visions on the outcome of several other battles today."

I said nothing, I just looked to the floor.

"I do insist you get some rest," Memnon continued, then he waved his hand almost idly. "You are excused."

I rose up and gave a half bow to Memnon and his generals.

"Thank you, My lord," I murmured softly.

I then went to my chambers. As soon as I reached them I sent my attendants away. Wishing to be alone.

I sat down on my canopied bed. Deep in thought.

Mathayus could feel me that time. Strange, this hadn't happened. Never before. But I brushed this thought aside.

After that vision, I sensed something. Something more important than that.

The time the Akkadian would come to me was drawing closer.

It would not be long now.


	3. Visions of Trechery

**2**

**V**ISIONS OF **T**RECHERY

"_Fidelity- A virtue peculiar to those who are about to be betrayed"_

_**-Ambrose Bierce** _

**A**fter conquering Sumer, Memnon set his sights on the last free tribes: The Kingdom of Ur, the Nubians, and the Amazonians.

During this campaign Memnon demanded that I follow him and his soldiers.

Wither it was because he enjoyed my company since he had called more and more often for me or because he was getting concerned about me I cannot say. Both are thoughts that made me ill, even after all this time. But I did know that Memnon seemed to have a great and strange 'bout confidence in conquering the Kingdom of Ur.

I made this chilling discovery as I had been gazing in to my black mirror, when he came into my tent for his usual calling.

"Cassandra," He greeted me softly, a horrible grin on his face.

I looked up at the sound of his voice. Despite the bile rising in my throat, I did my best to keeping my devoid of emotion. Something I had learned to over the years, and well.

"What do you predict about the campaign against Ur?" he asked.

"Personally my lord," I spoke honestly. "I foreseen a rather trying battle. Ur's king, Pheron maybe elderly, but he is wise in the ways of war. He is a respectable man, and his people would follow him to the ends of the earth if need be.'

Memnon nodded, an odd look in his eye that made me instantly on guard.

"Perhaps that is true, but I have the visions of a powerful sorceress," Memnon replied. "As well a secret weapon that, quite soon I feel, will come to my disposal."

I looked to him, unable to mask my pondering of his words.

_A secret weapon?_ I thought.

"My lord?" I said, fearing to ask.

But Memnon held up a hand to silence me. That familiar cruel smile on his face.

"Do not worry, my Beautiful Dear," He said. "You will know in time."

At the words 'Beautiful Dear' I felt the strong desire to slap the heartless warlord with all my might across the jaw. But I knew better. Such a deed would have me killed or worse.

I narrowed my eyes, clenched my fists under that table, and fixed my eye onto the depths of my black mirror.

I did not know how much more I could take from this horrible man.

---

Later on that night I stood, alone, in that same tent, deep in thought.

Now looking back out of all of the camp, I do think that tent, my own, was the most comfortable. It was a gigantic dome made out of the thickest hides to keep out drafts of the night. Symbols were painted on the furs showing my craft. Furniture stood on rugs and hides, tapestries hung from the high rafters. The fire I had lit that night in the center of the tent made a ground level fog.

And here I stood gazing at my map I had suddenly covered with my runic stones. For some rather odd reason I found myself dressed in my finest golden halter, with my black cape with a high-winged collar, and golden skirt. My usual golden headdress at my brow as my dark hair fell loosely over my shoulders. My hands decorated with golden hand-flowers, my fingers tipped with matching silver claws. Around my neck I placed a golden chain necklace with a single charm given to me years ago by my mother.

Perhaps it was something that could be felt on the air that night, that I had dressed as such.

Like something life altering would happen.

I let my hand hover over the map, over the desert where Memnon, his men, and I were to spend the night.

Closing my eyes, I summoned a vision. Trying to make sense of my sudden actions. Then in a slight shiver the went up my spine and a flash of white filled my eyes…

…_A campfire burned and flickered in the presence of a circle of carved, weathered stone. A place that was sacred to both men and gods._

_Yet at this holy place the leaders of the last free tribes stood, in a thickly heated argument. Among this council, sitting on a worn throne of stone, was the King of the very country of Ur. A noble, yet grizzled and weathered king, oddly similar to the stones around him._

_King Pheron himself._

"_Silence!" He called. Trying to get the attention of the tribal leaders, and to stop the chaos that seemed to be brewing from this discussion._

"_My father calls for silence!" Takmet, Pheron's young lightly bearded son demanded. "Hold your **tongues!**"_

_The bickering fell to rumbling and grumbling._

"_Discord **mus**t cease!" King Pheron yelled angrily._

_At once the arguing fell to silence._

"_We are gathered here, at this sacred place, to put our differences **aside!**" King Pheron spoke wisely, glaring at a few tribal members at his last word. "There is still time for us! Without us, the last of the free tribes, the world will be forever lost!"_

_From the darkness stepped a pretty, regal Nubian women; her dark hair braided like a warrior's, her dark skin dressed in battle leathers of war. Her head was held high as she turned to Pheron._

_She was Queen Isis of the Warrior Women._

_Around her stood a small group of dark women warriors, clad the same way she was. He voice was filled with power and authority as she spoke._

"_Fellow Ruler, Memnon's forces outnumber our own: Ten to one. His armies are the likes of which we have never seen." She spoke in a final tone. Isis then took a deep breath then spoke again._

"_I am sorry, Pheron. Your heart my be strong and your intentions noble, but warriors, and especially rulers and leaders, must choose their stands wisely. So, we choose **not** to join you in this suicidal battle."_

_King Pheron looked to Isis, judging her character quickly._

"_Will you flee then?" Asked King Pheron coolly. "Like the frightened females you seem to show us that you are?"_

_Isis' eyes flared, her jaw tightened. But she listened as Pheron continued._

"_Because you know, as well as everyone else here knows, that Memnon will surely bring conquest to your door. You and your people have a choice. You can stand and fight, or run like cowards. And even that cannot save you for long."_

_The warrior queen's eyes narrowed, but she looked as if she was taking the king's words, however wounding, into careful consideration._

_King Pheron stood up. He glanced to the tribal leaders. These where not just men, but warriors. They had traveled near and far to be at this council, just to have a hope that there was **still** a chance. A chance of avoiding their greatest fear._

"_We must stand together against this **tyrant**!" King Pheron bellowed, his strong voice echoing across the clearing. "Divided, we will be like the rest of human sheep…slaughtered, by these wicked _butchers_. Memnon will sweep to the sea, he will destroy us…One by one."_

"_Bold words, King of Ur!" Spoke a nomadic chieftain whose faces was as scarred as the cuirass he wore. "But what of the Sorcerer, Pheron? The human-demon at Memnon's side who sees with eyes like the gods and foretells the outcome of every battle?"_

_Another chieftain called out._

"_With his damned sorcerer at his side, **no mortal ** can defeat Memnon! You very well know that, Pheron!"_

_The tribal leaders nodded at this. King Pheron looked to them. Looking at their battle hardened faces filled with fear at the mere mentioning of Memnon's seer._

_King Pheron bent foreword._

"_And if this great sorcerer were to **die**, what then?"_

_The leaders looked to each other, eyes widened. But before they could consider, or ask what Pheron had planned, a deep voice rumbled from the shadows._

"_Another one of your schemes, Pheron?" Asked the voice. Then there was a rude snort._

"_Too late, too little."_

_Angered by this, Takmet stepped up and snarled at the shadows where the voice came from._

"_You will do **well** to respect my father!" _

_It was at this moment a large figure stepped from the shadows into the firelight._

_A man, a Nubian with a face might as well of been a crude battle mask. He bore decorative scars on his cheeks, slit-like eyes, and a wild knot of hair on the top of his otherwise shaven head. Battle beads from his tribe circled his neck, his leathers barely hid his thick muscles._

_This was Balthazar, the legendary warrior of warriors._

"_The truth respects **no one**," Balthazar boomed, his deep voice resonating along the clearing. "It is only the truth, and men who do not listen to it deserve no respect from me or any other man."_

"_Men who do not listen to reason deserve no respect either, Balthazar" Spoke King Pheron._

"_Listen to the **truth**, Pheron!" Balthazar snapped. "My men and I have raided Memnon's caravans. Broken the supply line to his troops, stung his soldiers moral, yet they still swept across the land like a plague. I will **not** send my people to their deaths in a **battle** that **can't be won!**"_

_Takmet strolled up to Balthazar, a goblet of wine in his hand. Perhaps this was the source of his foolishness, because he spoke rather boldly, "And what people will that be, Balthazar?"_

_Balthazar gave Takmet a burning gaze that would of made any other sensible man bite his tongue, yet the kings son continued._

"_You are the ruler of **nothing,** but a pile of rocks, and sand."_

_Then, with the reflexes of a jungle cat, Balthazar swiped out a hand and latched his thick fingers around the young man's wrist. Suddenly he started to squeeze, and hard as well. _

_The goblet of wine fell from Takmet's hand as he cried out in pain, falling to his knees._

"_If I am **no king**," Growled Balthazar in a low voice. "Then **why** are you on your knees before **me?**"_

"_Balthazar!" Yelled King Pheron._

_The kings royal guard that had traveled with them lashed out their swords. Balthazar shoved Takmet to the ground like a rag doll, and reached back for his sword near a tree trunk._

_The air seemed to thicken around the fire lit clearing with the promise of a fierce battle, and bloodshed…_

…_When something seemed to fly from the darkness, and slammed itself into the tree trunk above Balthazar's sword, just a hairs breath away from his fingers. The king looked to it in surprise._

_A iron kama that was the size of a hatchet._

_Balthazar looked up as a deep voice spoke from the darkness, that it, although was not as deep as the Nubian Warrior's, it held confidence and a quiet threatening way about it that made the warrior tense his muscles in alert._

"_So much talk, so much arguing, and so little cooperation. Memnon may just wait for you **fools** to kill **each other**"._

_Everyone turned to see who was the source of that dark voice when a trio of tall, darkly cloaked figures emerged from the shadows like phantoms._

_They moved with the grace of deadly demons who did not questioning their power over man. Yet the swords and knifes that clanked as the moved told the tribal leaders that these three where not demons, but that they where warriors, like the rest of them._

_They stopped before the fire, and pulled black their hoods one by one, the first reveled to be Jesup, the second Rama, and the last was none other than the thrower of the kama, Mathayus whose skin seemed more bronze in the firelight._

_They stood, holding their heads up high._

_Many tribal leaders got up and stepped back as if they had seen ghosts, as they looked to the warrior's complexion and braids. Only Balthazar said what was on their minds._

"_Akkadians," He breathed, his voice betraying a certain awe at what was before him. "I thought they were wiped out long ago."_

_King Pheron simply turned to Balthazar, as he was the only one who had expected the arrival of the three warriors._

"_They are the last of their kind, Balthazar," He said. "And by their hand, Memnon's sorcerer shall die."_

_Balthazar turned to King Pheron, his disapproval evident on his face._

"_You put your faith, and our fate in the hands, in a clan of cutthroats who kill for **money**?" He asked, curtly._

_Mathayus fixed Balthazar with a stare that would of turned water from the hottest desert in to ice. Yet he said nothing._

"_They are more than that," He said. "They are skilled assassins. Trained for generations in the deadly arts."_

_Balthazar gave another rude snort at this._

"_It doesn't change what they are, Pheron," He said. "They kill for money and such men are not to be trusted."_

_Takmet, who appeared to try to gain back some of his wounded dignity, strode up to the assassins._

_He looked to the battle marked face of Jesup and Rama, then to the unmarked face of Mathayus._

"_You," He spoke the younger, his tone dripping with disrespect. "The others have markings for war. Why do you not wear your clans markings?"_

"_Maybe, I have not earned that right," Mathayus said turning his icy cold gaze to Takmet._

"_Oh really?" Takmet said, his tone still filled with that disrespect that was evidently angering the Akkadian._

_Mathayus let a hand go to the hilt of his scimitar with a certain cold ease, right in Takmet's full view._

"_Maybe, I haven't killed enough men who have asked stupid questions." Mathayus said, an edge in his tone._

_Well, the silent message that Mathayus was sending the insulting prince was heard well. Takmet quickly stepped back, out of harm's way. He turned to his father, the king of Ur._

"_At what price," Takmet started slowly, as if fearing the answer. "Do these mercenaries ask from us, father?"_

_King Pheron pulled out a small leather pouch from scarred his cuirass._

"_Twenty blood rubies," He answered his son quietly._

"_Father!" Takmet started, in complete shock. "But… That's the last of the kingdom's treasury!"_

"_Be **quiet**, boy!" He snapped, wearing a frown that reviled even more lines in his weathered face._

_Takmet stepped back as if he had received a terrible blow, in a strange way he had…_

…Suddenly my vision did a strange thing and, in this brief moment, I could sense Takmet's thoughts. His anger at his father for letting the kingdom fall to this. Feeling as if his father had always treated him like a child. How he was embarrassed at this how he thought that he would make his father pay but before I could focus any longer on this my vision continued…

… _Fists clenched, Takmet left the circle and stormed into the shadows._

_His father sighed, and turned to the warriors and leaders before him and asked the question in which he had called this council._

"_If these men kill the sorcerer, then will you fight together?" _

_The tribal leaders looked to each other, after a quick discussion with their advisors, one by one they nodded. Even Isis and her warriors nodded, in agreement with Pheron._

_Now only Balthazar was left to make a response. _

_He took a deep sigh that was like the winds across the desert sands…_

…_Then he nodded his final agreement._

"_So be it," Said King Pheron, throwing the pouch to Jesup, who caught it easily._

"_As long as one of us still breaths the sorcerer will die," He said, pledging the Akkadian's blood oath._

_Then the three turned to leave, when Balthazar yanked out the iron kama from the tree trunk and called to Mathayus._

"_Assassin!"_

_Mathayus turned just as Balthazar threw the iron kama that went whipping and whirling at his head…_

…_And Mathayus snatched it out of the air before it could hit him between the eyes, where it was aimed. He lowered the kama, and looked to Balthazar. A stern, calculating look in his dark eyes._

_Mathayus turned to Pheron, and spoke._

"_As for **him**,"- Mathayus said, glancing tellingly to Balthazar-"We'll kill for free."_

_Then the Akkadians melted into the shadow from whence they came…_

…I let my hand fall to my side.

With my strange power, I just knew that my vision had taken place several days ago.

_So_, I thought to myself. _That's Memnon's secret weapon._

Takmet.

The anger, and the pain that Takmet had been going through was enough to make any man go into rage. He was possible of doing anything…

Even kill his own father.

I had a horrible feeling that with the encouragement of Memnon he would soon do just that. But before I could continue this train of thought I heard something.

A soft _thump_ behind me, like a large cat landing on it feet. Then the soft, stalking foot steps, as if a predator had appeared in my tent, hunting it's prey. Preparing for the final swift strike.

I could almost feel him pull back the bowstring of his carved bow, a mighty arrow knocked ready to set fly.

I took a deep breath as if I was going to take a plunge into cold water.

_So, it is time, _I thought to myself.

I turned to see the person that I had sensed, standing behind me. There stood the Akkadian warrior, the one I had had visions of for the last several years.

Mathayus.

The string of his powerful bow pulled back, his arrow aimed at my pounding heart.


	4. Last of the Akkadians

**_3_**

**_LAST OF THE AKKADIANS_**

_"My day has been too long. In the morning I saw the sons of Unamis happy and strong; _

_and yet, before the night has come, I have lived to see the last warrior of the wise race of the Mohicans."_

-_James Fenimore Cooper, **The Last of the Mohicans**_

**H**is eyes widened when I turned to him. Mathayus paused, surprised. I could not blame him. After all he had been sent to kill a man, not a women. This had to be the last thing he had expected.

I studied him, looking at him up and down. After seeing him in so many of my visions, I couldn't help but feel a child-like curiosity towards the man before me.

His copper colored skin, was made a warm bronze by the candle-light, his long dark hair fell down his back, a few strands of it braided in the warrior braids of his people. His dark eyes were piercing, his face bore feature similar to that of a carved statue. His muscles exposed. Even dressed in a leather cuirass and leather breeches he seemed as if he were like some sort of lost god in this hellish desert.

Then suddenly, Mathayus closed his eyes, and shook his head. He looked as if he where trying to get hold of himself.

I then used my power to gently push into his mind.

I found pain. Just earlier he saw his two brothers slain like cattle as they had tried to infiltrate Memnon's camp, but he still went on determined to get his job done. Then I found what I was looking for. What he was thinking about seeing a women dressed in royal garb in the tent of the "man" he had come to kill.

_This is sorcery, _He had thought_. After all, I was hired to kill a sorcerer. Sorcerer's can cast illusions, change their appearance to the eye. I have seen it before. _

Mathayus aimed his arrow to my heart.

I stepped towards him.

"I am Cassandra," I said, introducing myself.

My jewelry tinkled like a fountain when I stepped foreword.

Once again, Mathayus aimed the arrow at my heart.

I stopped, and slowly eased into his mind. My message for him and him alone.

"_You've been betrayed, Mathayus,"_ I spoke into his mind.

Mathayus squeezed his eyes shut. Now it was obvious to him that I was no illusion, and I was the sorcerer he had come to kill.

The _sorceress_ he had come to kill.

Then Mathayus opened his eyes, he slighted down that arrow before he spoke.

"You know my name?" He asked me, his voice deep.

For some strange reason, I felt my heart quicken it's, already fast, pace at the sound of his voice, and a strange warm feeling had suddenly washed over me, like stepping into a hot bath. Ignoring this feeling, I nodded to him and answered his message.

"_And why you're here…"_ I told him in his mind.

But I did not want it to end just yet, I wished to see if he was stronger than the other men I had used this enchantment on.

"_But I am afraid you will not find me so easily slain."_

It was then I casted the spell. Giving him a sensation that time was slowing, even as I could feel thoughts in his mind race.

"So kill me," I said aloud this time. "_If_ you can."

I looked at Mathayus, letting my eyes fall deep within his.

My mother had once told me that the eyes are the windows to one's soul. I wished to see the soul of the man before me. I could tell my spell was making him feel weak.

Whether or not he would let fly the bowstring into my heart was in his hands.

If he did, well, let it be known that I did not fear death. In my heart I knew it was kind, merciful compared to what I have been forced to do to many.

Time seemed to be frozen for those moments.

Leaving me, standing there at the mercy of Mathayus and his bow and arrow. Mathayus, the feared Akkadian assassin, who seemed to be at a loss of what to do now that his victim was the last thing he would expect.

He had never killed a women before.

Would I be his first?

Suddenly he let go the bowstring.

I could almost feel the arrow as it let fly…

…Just past me to the guard who had crept up behind me and hit him in the chest.

The arrow took him out of his life instantly, he fell dead to the ground.

I turned to look at Mathayus.

He was knocking another arrow, alert, himself now.

I took a sad sigh.

Deep down I was hoping he would be merciful and take my life, but now I knew it could not happen.

"I am sorry Akkadian," I told him, meaning my every word. "You lost your chance."

It was then another guard appeared. Mathayus threw down the bow and took up the scimitar and the iron kama that I had seen him with in several of my vision.

The guard swung at his head. Mathayus, quickly blocked the blow with his scimitar, and swung the kama at his stomach. There was a sound of cold metal interring flesh, and Mathayus shoved him to the floor.

Suddenly another appeared behind him, Mathayus traded a quick set of blows. Then suddenly gave the man a quick, deep slash across the chest. Mathayus elbowed him to the ground.

He turned around to see two other warriors appear, swinging their swords at the Akkadian. In an impressive display of skill, Mathayus swung around.

In a flash of steel, the two men dropped. One dead, one wounded.

I was chilled when he turned to the last one, the expression on his face ice-cold and emotionless. Swinging the scimitar so it's point faced the ground, then he sent the blade crashing down.

Mathayus yanked the blade out of the guard, and turned to me.

I knew I must of looked astonished since could not hide my surprise.

I had heard of Mathayus' skill, but to see it with my own eyes…

…His skill had taken my breath away and shocked me how easily he could take the life of five of Memnon's best guards. Despite the fact I detested bloodshed, I couldn't help but be mesmerized by him. By his grace, speed, and strength.

Suddenly, dozens of Memnon's Red Turbaned men appeared in my tent, and they swarmed Mathayus like insects to honey.

Mathayus did his best to try to hold them off. Fighting them with the ferocity of an angry lion. But their numbers where about to overwhelm him.

Suddenly, Thorak came running at him, a three pronged trident in his hands. He thrusted the three points at the Akkadian's neck, pinning him to the central post of my tent.

Quickly I went into his mind.

"_I am sorry, Akkadian,"_ I spoke in his mind, meaning those every words.

I had never wanted him to be found, and now perhaps I would never be saved.

"_I am sorry."_

---

The soldiers around the Akkadian parted to show "My" Lord.

Mathayus obviously knew who he was the second his dark eyes laid upon him. The man who had entered dressed in golden chain mail and black battle leathers with a cruel look forever in his eye could only be one person.

Memnon, the Great Teacher himself.

He looked at Mathayus, a look of slight surprise on his face.

"A living, breathing Akkadian," He said, appraising the pinned warrior before him. "Well, this is a rare pleasure."

He stepped close to Mathayus, his cruel eyes locked on to that of the Akkadian's.

"I hear that you kind trains it's warriors to bear, great pain," Memnon said quietly. "You must teach me this…If you live long enough."

In a boldness that none had dared, Mathayus spat bitterly in Memnon's face.

Memnon then gave the assassin a sharp backhand across the jaw, a blow that sent blood splattering the tent wall behind them.

"So you _do_ bleed like any other man," Memnon pointed out.

Mathayus gave a bloody snarl, like a hungry dog just denied it's meal. At once several members of the Red Guard ran to Mathayus' side, tying his arms and neck back to the center post. Once they had bound him successfully, Thorak removed the trident.

Mathayus meanwhile was giving Memnon a look of pure contempt. Then a all too familiar voice spoke.

"What? No more daring words from the assassin? Not so full of yourself are you now?"

Mathayus and I turned to see Takmet, the son of King Pheron step into the tent, a leather sack in his right hand.

Mathayus at first glanced at me (perhaps surprised that my prediction came true), before he turned to the traitor.

"You?" He said surprised, his eyes wide at what he was seeing. "_You_ are our betrayer?"

Takmet gave an amused smile at this, and a sarcastic bow.

Mathayus gave him a cold look.

"You would betray your own _father? Your own people?_" He asked, a disgusted growing look on his face.

Takmet just shrugged his shoulders.

"My _father_, was a fool," Takmet replied. "He deserved no better from me for treating me like a child."

Takmet turned to Memnon, untying the leather sack he held in his hand.

"He was very shocked when I told him that I planned to join your campaign," Takmet informed Memnon, reaching in to the sack. "You could tell from the look on his face…"

And from the sack, Takmet pulled out the head of his own father. The surprised look on the face of the late King of Ur evident.

Mathayus scowled, sickened at what he saw. I turned away, more repulsed that someone would fall that low then at the sight of a dead man's head (I had seen far worse then that). The Red Guard, and even Thorak wore frowns on their faces.

I glanced to Memnon. Unlike the men here, he was not disgusted. In fact he seemed amused at the sick display before him.

It only shows that evil knows evil.

"By my father's head," Takmet said formally, brandishing the head of King Pheron in a sick ceremony, before tossing it to Memnon's feet. "I pledge my allegiance!"

Memnon nodded, that amused smile still on his face.

"You have proven your loyalty Takmet," Memnon said casually. "You shall command my left wing, and serve as governor of Ur after it's capture."

Memnon turned to Thorak, his second in command.

"And with Thorak in command of my right wing, will shall destroy all who dare challenge our might."

Around him the Red Turban guards seemed to be holding on to Memnon's every word.

The Great Teacher turned to me.

"And with the rise of the demon moon, my armies will sweep to the sea and I shall ascend to the throne as the King of Legend, the favored ruler of the gods. Just as the prophecy decrees."

Taking a deep sigh, I nodded. Confirming the inevitable.

Memnon had turned back to Mathayus (who looked as if he would like nothing more than to slice Memnon in two) when there was a clatter of armor. Two men, obviously soldiers, appeared. Between them they held a man who looked to be marked with arrow wounds, barely alive.

He raised his head to look in to the eyes of Mathayus.

It was then I recognized the man, it was Jesup. The Akkadian's older brother.

"My Lord," Spoke one of the solders. "We have shot this one down with enough arrows to kill any other man here, yet he still lives."

Memnon looked even more amused.

"Well this is interesting," Memnon said, looking at the wounded warrior before him. "For an extinct race, these surviving Akkadians, seem to be hard to kill."

Memnon walked over to Mathayus and took one of the throwing knifes from his belt. He flipped the blade over in his hand to get a better look at it. The metal seem to gleam with an unnatural blue light, an magnificent example of the Akkadian craftsmanship in blade making.

"Beautiful," He said in pure admiration.

The Great Teacher's eyes locked to those of the Assassins. And I quickly knew what Memnon had planned with Mathayus' knife.

He turned to his two soldiers and said, "Bring the him to me."

Mathayus then yanked at his bindings with the strength of a cornered beast as Memnon made his way to Jesup. The Assassin fought against the bindings and the Red Guards who surpiseingly were able to hold back the raging warrior.

"Mathayus," Came Jesup's weak voice.

At the sound of his brother's voice, Mathayus fought harder and harder against the ropes, with no avail.

"Mathayus," Jesup said his voice more urgent.

Jesup closed his eyes for a brief moment, and Mathayus stopped fighting his captors. Then Jesup's bright clear eyes locked on to that of his younger brother.

He had the look of one who was not afraid of death, but welcomed it. For he knew that was all he could do.

"Live Free," Jesup said, his voice soft.

The younger Akkadian swallowed hard, a pained look flashed across his face.

"Die Well, my brother…" Mathayus said, resignedly.

And in one vicious move, Memnon slit the Akkadian's throat.

I quickly turned to Mathayus. The pain on his face was so similar to the one that I had when I watched Memnon kill my mother. I did not need to use sorcery to know how he was feeling.

The aching pain, and the emptiness that follows it is one that is worse than any torture the man can could up with.

It was when Mathayus turned away from the sight of his dead brother that I felt it.

At first I thought it was just a insect buzzing around my ears, but the rumbling got louder and louder.

I let a hand go up to my forehead.

It was strange but I could sense a deep rumbling, as if something deep, something powerful was shifting.

I looked to the guards around the room.

No one seemed to be disturbed by this great change that I could sense on the air. Suddenly, my eyes flew to Memnon, the dagger in his hand was dripping liquid rubies and I saw something that only my eyes could see…

…_The Great Teacher's face was edged in silver. A dancing halo of fiery light shimmered around his brow…_

…Then I blinked and the image disappeared.

Memnon stood before, the Akkadian, studying the knife in his hand.

"I have never used a blade as sharp as this," The Great Teacher said.

He looked up to Mathayus, a cruel smile on his face.

"I wonder if it's blade will not dull when it is used a second time."

Memnon walked up to Mathayus, the last of the Akkadians. Knife in his hand.

Mathayus took the little time he had left to look to Takmet, Thorak, me, then lastly Memnon. A wry smile formed on his face.

"I will meet all of you again," Mathayus said, not fearing the death Memnon had planned for him. "In the Underworld.'

Memnon returned the smile.

"Oh but not for a long time, Akkadian," Memnon said, preparing to make the final slash.

Now, was the time I **_had_** to act.

"_Stop!" _I said, making my voice as sharp as a blade.

At the sound of my voice the eyes of every man turned to face me. Holding my head high, I stepped foreword.

"_Wait"_ I said, my voice strong, holding authority, my chin up, staring in to the eyes of monster.

I would not allow the Great Teacher to kill the only hope I had of escape.

"Mathayus shall not die tonight," I informed him.

"If _that_ is a prophecy, Sorceress," Memnon said, still poised to slash. "Then perhaps I am in need of a new seer."

I let my eyes narrow.

"Change your future if you wish," I said coolly.

At once that captured Memnon's attention. As well as the attention of every other man in the tent, (including a surprised, taken aback Mathayus).

"Should Mathayus die by your hand," I continued. "Or, any hand you command. A great misfortune shall fall upon you. The gods are watching my king, and they have shown the Akkadian favor on this night."

The guards around us seemed to tremble by my words. Even the soldiers, who had killed many, men, women and children seem to look to each other, their eyes showing how they already feared the "misfortune" that, (I confessed) I predicted on a whim to help the Akkadian survive. Mathayus looked to me, with a calculating look, as if he wasn't sure what to think of me. Memnon sighed, as if been denied a real treat, and nodded. He stepped back away from the Akkadian.

The Akkadian and the Great Teacher locked eyes, sharing looks of pure contempt.

"It's a puzzle then," Memnon said. "How to kill you without using my hand or any hand I command."

Suddenly, Thorak swung the trident, at the Akkadian's jaw, knocking him unconscious. Quickly the Red Guard untied the limp Mathayus.

"Take him with the horse thief," The Great Teacher said. "They'll both be excellent food for the fire ants. After all, that is not hand of mine, nor any hand I command."

The guards nodded, and took the warrior out of my tent. With them went the rest of the Red Guards, Thorak, and Takmet. Now only the Great Teacher and I stood in the tent, alone.

Memnon turned to me. His eyes filled suddenly with suspicion.

"Are you sure it was _just_ the gods who showed the Akkadian favor?" He asked coldly.

I looked to him, my jaw tight. Trying with all my might to hide the fear I felt creeping in my chest.

"With all due respect, My Lord," I said, my eyes narrowed, my voice as cool as ice. "If you are coming to question my word, then perhaps _are_ in need a new seer."

And with that said, I gave a low bow and turned to go to a curtained area of my tent. I stood there for a few seconds waiting for the footsteps that would tell me the Memnon had left my tent.

Once he did, I decided I had to be more careful, if I had a vision of Mathayus somehow surviving (that is only _if_, it was a slim chance, after all). I had to be more wary.

For the Great Teacher did suspect something.

But what, I did not know.


	5. Return to Gomorrah

**_4_**

**_RETURN TO GOMORRAH_**

_"Never let a man imagine that he can pursue a good end by evil means, without sinning his own soul. The evil effect on himself is certain"_

_-**Robert Southey**_

**I**n my time, and in your time (I have noticed) as well, Gomorrah was a city, that had becomefamous for it's reputation of sin and decadence. Yet in my time it was a city of order and control, or it's outward appearance any way.

Behind the thick outer walls, at the heart of the bustling city, was a place-like fortress with battlements and turrets.

In this place was a throne room made of sandstone. Walls adorned with designs that, I predicted, would evolve in time. Touch lamps of dark iron and bowls of oil fire on spindled legs gave the great chamber a golden hue. Rugs, oversized urns, lush drapes of rich colors, intricate tapestries and golden statues of the gods decorated the room.

Along the left wall, two beasts, a lion and a tiger slept. The two where no bigger than cubs and where a kingly gift from faraway countries.

A great throne of gold, with a great shield-like disc with the symbol of Lord Memnon, with two large ivory tusks on either side of the throne pointing out wards.

Along the right side of the throne room was a great balcony, looking out onto the city.

Next to this balcony is where I sat at my mystic table. Claud in glittering gold chain mail, a golden skirt, my usual headdress, handflowers and other jewelry.

Before me on the table was a map of the known world, and on it was my assorted stones of jades, agates, and other ancient stones. I let my hand hover over the stones, closing my eyes, and letting myself succumb to that power that I had deep inside me. Calling for a vision.

Not long after I let my hand hover the edge of the rocky crags did that familiar flash of white fill my mind, taking me instantly…

… _To a place on the edge of a forest where Queen Isis rode with her band of sister warriors that she had brought with her to King Pheron's council. Smoke from _(what my inner voice had told me) _a nearby settlement came, billowing out to the high clear sky, like a pillar._

_Riding to her_ _where more of her warriors battered, bloodstained, soot covered, and filled with despair. As Isis helped a deeply wounded warrior onto her saddle, a pained and angered look flashed across her face. As her and her fellow warriors left the place that she had known so long as home…_

… It was then the vision ended. I could feel my throat tighten as I felt the strong wave of despair, and the aching pain that followed.

The anguish of Isis.

I took a deep breath, and placed that shared pain into a dark space inside me. As I did so I could hear the gigantic door open, and the voice of the man I loathed with my every breath since I could remember ask me his usual question.

"What news from my Sorceress today?"

I looked up to see The Great Teacher, Memnon, stride across the throne room. He was dressed in black battle leathers, fit for the monster of a warlord that he was. At his sides, at least two paces back to show respect was Thorak and Takmet.

The two men stopped as their king and general made his way up the steps to his throne, leaning to face me. It was then I turned to him, my eyes half open, staring at the marble floor.

"The forces of Queen Isis are scatted to the four winds, Sire," I spoke in an emotionless tone.

I did not have to look up to know that Memnon was grinning to his two commanders like a greedy child.

"The people of Ur are reeling from the death of their king," I continued.

I also did not have to look up to know that Takmet had a smile on his face as well. But I went on, revealing my repulsion to no one.

"Pheron's tribe are leaving their cities. They are scattered, lost, and leaderless."

"And what of the Nubian?"

I shook my head, my earrings making tiny chimes as I did so.

"Balthazar and his people remain hidden from my sight," I told him.

At once Memnon looked stern.

"Do the gods shield them?"

I gave him a tiny shrug and replied, "My sight does not reveal this, My Lord."

I could hear Memnon lean back into his golden throne, take a deep breath, then turn to his generals, get off his throne and walk to them.

"Give the generals the news, have them make my armies ready for the next campaign."

"Yes, My Lord," both men murmured.

And quickly both left. It was then did I look up at the man who had me imprisoned for all these years as he stood near a table of food of fruits, sweetmeats, and fine wines. Hate and anger filling me as gazed at him. Apparently, he must of seen the anger in my eyes because he suddenly asked with a surpisingly tinder smile.

"You think I am cruel, don't you?"

I took a deep breath, thinking quickly of how I would answer. Turning back to the map before me.

"I rarely think of you at all, My Lord," I replied, my tone lacking the contempt in my words.

Memnon turned to the table and ripped a shank of meat from a golden platter. Obviously, not pleased with my reply. I could sense a debate of ours start to brew, but I couldn't careless.

"You sorely test my good nature, Cassandra," He spoke firmly.

"You brought me here, only to fulfill _a purpose_, My Lord," I reminded cuttingly.

"Yes?" He said turning to me, his voice raising slightly. "Perhaps you've forgotten what life is like out side these walls."

It was then he threw the shank of meat to the chained lion and tiger. Both went at the meat, biting and clawing at each other, trying to get the food.

"That is what it is like out there. Heartless, ignorant, and savage."

_What an apt description of yourself,_ I could not help but think. But I did not speak these words.

"But I can change that," Memnon said taking a few steps to me. "Am I not called 'the Teacher of Men'? I will bring order now in our lifetimes, just as the prophecy says."

I got up and walked past him, as if to go to that table filled with food an drink, saying only this:

"I know the prophecy."

"You should," Memnon pointed out. "That vision, after all, was yours. Say it."

I could feel my throat tighten at the mere mention of repeating the prophecy that had destroyed my life so long ago.

"Do you _not know it_, my lord? Don't the words _ring in you mind_ every **moment** you send another regiment to war? Don't they _chime in you ear_ every time you **spill the blood of another tribe and it's peoples**?"

"SAY IT!" He hissed so similar to a deadly cobra.

I took a deep breath, knowing I must do as he commanded.

Never did I feel the invisible chain captivity pull at me then I did the moment he would command me to repeat that damnable prophecy. I despised those words as much as I despised the man who commanded me to say them. But I took deep breath and reluctantly, I spoke in a emotionless voice:

" 'By tolling bell, and thunder's swell, a flaming star falls from the sky. By a full moon's glow, in House of Scorpio, knelling men shall bow to the king on high.' "

Memnon took a step before me.

"**_I am that king_,** Cassandra," He said sternly. "In one weeks time, the moon will be in Scorpio and the Prophecy will be fulfilled."

I said nothing at this, I just stared.

"I will bring order after centuries of chaos!" Memnon continued. "An order that will last for a thousand years!"

I took a deep breath, knowing this never to be true.

"Rivers of blood will never bring peace-!" I began when Memnon angrily cut me off.

"But they can bring **_obedience_**! And that _will_ suffice!"

At that I knew that the conversation had just ended. Leaving me knowing that he would never change, that he would never stop killing, even when he's established his 'great empire'. In fact, I greatly feared this day. All hope for freedom would be forever lost, and only the Gods knew what Memnon would do to his own people.

An adder can't change it's deadly poison to sweet honey, after all.

It was then Memnon took a step closer to me, making him a bit too closer for my comfort. The back of his hand coming up to stroke my cheek

" And when I become the King of Legend," Memnon said studying me, a look in his eye that made me feel violated. "You shall take your place beside me…On a throne, of course…And in my bed."

At those last words, my stomach twisted, so quickly that I almost became ill. Even though I feared I would vomit at the mere mentioning of me in bed with that _monster_, I found my voice.

"Only a virgin can be possessed with the gift of second sight, My Lord. In your bed of delight, I would lose my gift, and you would lose your advantage in battle," I said with a tiny smile, knowing well the stories that I had listened to years ago.

Memnon smiled at me in return.

"The day I speak of, it the day that I no longer need your vision, My beautiful sorceress. All that I will require is the vision of loveliness that you are," He said.

He softly ran his hand down my arm and… well I shall say simply this, one did not have to be a mind reader to know what the Great Teacher was thinking then.

I flinched at his cold touch, feeling dirty, ill, and contaminated.

I drew away from Memnon, brushing against a knife on his belt. Perhaps this was the weapon that he had taken from Mathayus, I'm not sure. But I do know that as I brushed it a flash of white intruded my sight, and a vision sized me taking me…

…_To a rocky crag, a days travel from Gomorrah. There a scrawny, slightly bearded man was running, alongside a strange yet beautiful white camel, crying to it's rider._

"_Hey! We had a deal!"_

_It's rider turned to the man. At once, I recognized him._

_The Akkadian assassin- Mathayus! He was coming here to avenge his brother's death. I could feel it in the anger and hatred that burned in his blood. _

"_That's right," Mathayus replied to the small man. "And I haven't killed you. **Yet**."_

At once my vision ended.

_So, Mathayus had survived_, I thought, a bit surprised. At once I felt a small twinge of hope.

Maybe there was still hope for my freedom, yet.

"What's wrong?" spoke a sudden voice.

Suddenly I remembered, _Memnon._ He must of seen the look of surprise on my face, as well as the look in my eye when a vision overcomes me because he quickly asked.

"What did you see?"

Quickly, I made up a story.

"My sincerest apologies my lord," I said, not truly lying, and trying to look weary as I felt. "The hard journey home has very trying on me. I fear I'm not feeling my best."

Memnon studied my face. I knew that he was looking for treachery or deceit. He had never trulytrusted me, not since my mother had died by his hand. Finding neither he spoke.

"Perhaps you should retire to your chambers," He suggested. "But I will have need of you tomorrow, when my generals come calling

"Thank you, My Lord," I bowed my head.

I turned and started to walk away, in a hurry to go to my rooms, and be left alone to my own thoughts. Then, suddenly, Memnon called my name.

"Cassandra!"

I stopped, but did not turn to face him.

"Your well being is of the utmost importance to me," Memnon spoke behind me. "You know that do you?"

I did not bother to hide the anger and hate that, I'm sure came, to my face. The hate that "My" Lord did not see. The hate that had boiled in my heart for the last decade. A hate that would never go away. Not as long as lived with out my family and with the nightmares that I would forever have of their screams. Not as long as I was haunted by the thoughts of what could have been.

"Yes, My Lord," I said, keeping my voice even as I hated him with every fiber of my soul, of my being. "You are most generous."

And I left the room, quietly thinking, _Dear Gods help me!_

_For if Mathayus doesn't help me escape, then I will take my own life without hesitation this time. _

_I would rather die, gladly, and burn in the fires of hell for all eternity for my suicide then become the bride of soulless, foul, **monster**. _


	6. Uninvited Guest

**_5_**

**_UNINVITED GUEST_**

_"Many people are ashamed of their embarrassment because they see it as a sign of weakness"_

_-**Juhani Mattila**_

**W**hen I awoke the next day it was somewhere near noon. My last night's pondering, and strange feelings had left me staying up a bit later than I usually did. As soon as I awoke my handmaiden, Halima, quickly went to my side.

"My Lady, are you alright?" She asked, concern in her eye.

"I'm fine," I replied. "There was just something on the wind, it made it hard for me to sleep."

Then, surprisingly, she nodded.

"I know," She said suddenly.

I looked to her, a bit taken aback.

"You felt it too?" I asked.

She nodded.

"If you don't mind me saying, one does not need to be a sorcerer, or a sorceress for that matter, to feel the winds of change is soon to come," She said, knowingly.

It was then I remembered the vision that I had last night. Mathayus had been a day away from Gomorrah at that time. Could he be here, now? In this very city? Perhaps in this very palace? I turned to Halima.

"Has there been any strange incidents this morning?" I asked, hopeful.

"The Martial Arts Masters from China have arrived, if that's what you mean," She replied. "They have already given your friend, Philos, the compound for that 'magic power' that he's been raving about, and Lord Memnon is to entertaining them in the courtyard."

_So Mathayus isn't here just yet,_ I thought. _But I sense that will not be a problem soon._

Meanwhile Halima had turned to me.

"Lord Memnon came here this morning, but I told him that you where sleeping and should not be disturbed," She said. "Do you wish me to tell him that you are awake, My Lady?"

I shook my head. After last night's meeting and hearing his 'plans' for me, I was not in a hurry to come calling on the Great Teacher anytime soon.

"That won't be necessary, he will not have need of me until later this evening."

"Very Well," She said, nodding her head. "A bath has been readied for you, My Lady. That is, if you wish to take one."

"Yes, I do wish it so," I said.

Halima nodded turning to the door.

"I'll get you a robe," She said as she disappeared through the thick wooden door that led out into the grand halls.

As she left me, I sat up in bed, running my fingers through my dark hair, wondering when Mathayus would appear.

Not knowing my question would soon be answered, and not in a way I would of liked.

Not so long after my handmaiden had brought me a robe, I was soon in my own personal bathing chamber made of beautiful warm sandstone while royal drapes hung from the ceiling. Feminine hieroglyph-like decorations covered the warm sandstone walls. All was seemingly enhanced by the freshly picked desert flowers, the burning oils and incense.

A pool of waist-deep water, cloaked by rose petals took up a good size of the chamber. My handmaidens shut and barred the door behind me, knowing that I did not wish to be disturbed.

Taking off my robe, I stepped into the pool, dove under the warm water. When I finally resurfaced, my maids quickly went to rubbing my skin with milk, honey, jojoba, and other fragrant oils. While they combed other oils into my long dark hair.

It was when they where done I dove into the water once more, while two of my handmaidens tossed more rose petals in to my bath.

I knew that, soon I would have to get out of the bath, get dressed in my royal clothing, and ready myself for the meeting with the horrid man I hated so, and his pupils.

In truth I wished to linger a bit longer. Here was my only refuge from that **_monster_**, the only place I didn't have to worry about him intruding. Well, until he won his last 'great victory' over the free peoples.

I was about to wonder what I could do to, somehow, delay my next encounter with Memnon when a sound rudely interrupted my thoughts.

_THUMP!_

I jumped, startled, and almost inhaled some of the bathwater. Whatever that sound was, it had been magnified by the water. Suddenly I could hear some faint screams from my handmaidens, and running feet.

_What on earth is going on?_

Quickly I resurfaced, throwing back my long hair, waited until the water had cleared my eyes to see what was happening. I could see the basket's of rose petals had been thrown to the floor in a clutter hurry, I guessed my handmaidens had ran off to get someone from the royal guard.

It was when I looked up I could see why.

For standing there, scimitar in hand, and looking utterly surprised was Mathayus.

I couldn't help but gasp at first. I knew he would come to the palace, but not in _my _chambers. How did he get in here? The door had been locked!

It was then I noticed that the surprised look on his face had changed. A different look was on his face now. One that I had never seen him give in all my visions, and dreams of him. It was then I realized the reason behind that look.

I was entirely _naked!_ Yes, a bit my black hair may have covered my breasts, but just barely, and there was enough skin showing that did not leave much to the warrior's imagination.

Quickly, I leapt forward, grabbing a small decorative knife that the maids had used to cut the roses for my bath. I held it above my head. If there was one thing that I did not regret the soldiers in the Great Teacher's camps for showing me, it was how to fight.

I stood ready for an attack, while Mathayus still wore that same look on his face that made my face burn in embarrassment, and (oddly enough) in nervousness. If he did not stop that look, I feared he would see the blush that I could feel rising in my cheeks and would get… Well, _ideas_.

"Well, Assassin?" I asked impatiently, trying to keep myself calm all the while. "Are you going to try to kill me or just stare?"

Suddenly, a look flickered on Mathayus' face almost like he would smile, he took in a deep sigh.

"Decisions, decisions," He said in a husky voice that made me tremble.

Then, so abruptly that we both jumped there was a loud _BAM!_ We both turned to the door, where (as it sounded like anyway) Memnon's Red Guard was trying to force their way in.

Mathayus, who looked as though he had just gotten his bearings back, took off at a run and leapt in to the bath alongside me. Quickly I leapt foreword and slashed at his arm. Then I backed off as he looked to the red line of blood the was forming from my, although not deep, but satisfying slash. The Akkadian looked at me, surprised.

"Ow!" He exclaimed.

I gave him a satisfied smile, a bit proud of myself for remembering my training. But I couldn't stay that way for long.

Mathayus then made his sudden counter attack. He knocked the knife out of my hand, and had moved so suddenly that I was under his free arm; my back brushing against his leather cuirass.

Quickly, I called on the power inside myself. Using my gift I called to Mathayus' soul, my pride, and defiance now gone with my weapon.

"_Akkadian… Akkadian."_

I could feel his muscles tense slightly at first, making me think he would give in. Then his deep voice whispered a promise in my ear.

"Oh **_no_**, Witch. Not _this** time**_."

Suddenly the _BANG_ing at the door became louder and more frequent. It was obvious that the Red Guard had nearly bashed through.

"Take a breath," Mathayus suddenly ordered.

Not knowing what would happen, I did as he said, taking a deep breath. Then suddenly his hand clamped on my mouth, and he pushed me down. Into the bath water.

I could hear several metallic _clangs_ underwater that told me the he was trying to open the iron grading at the base of the bath. Suddenly there was a loud _CLANK!_ Then I felt the water's pull, dragging us through the large drain.

When the Red Guard had finally broken through the door, the Akkadian and I where long gone. Sliding down a dark drain, being swept by the tide.

The dank, dark drain twisted and turned so abruptly so many times, that we both hit the sharp corners of the aqueducts rather painfully, each blow was like kick from an angry steed. Water crashing all around us. It was hard to breath, hear, and even see. I tried to scream several times, each time a regretted it immensely for water would slosh it's way into my throat.

Suddenly, the sound of crashing water that we could hear, at first from a distance, grew louder and louder. Then suddenly we where in the air being poured out the drain into a dark water chamber.

Mathayus and I barely had time to breath until we where forced back underwater. By the force of the water from the drain.

All around was watery darkness. I couldn't see anything, and I could feel my lungs burning, begging for air.

_Look for light,_ I told my self,_ Where there's air, there's got to be light!_

I stroked hard, trying franticly to see a beam of light, anywhere in this never ending darkness. Meanwhile my lungs felt as if they where on fire. It was becoming increasingly hard to stroke, after holding my breath for so long and being bashed by the water and it's current.

_Keep… Looking… For… Light…_

I could feel my arms, and legs start to slacken, feeling like I could move them anymore.

It was then I could feel a hand clasp my arm rather hard. I swung in surprise around to see Mathayus. A sudden bust of fiery anger hit my veins.

_How dare he!_ I couldn't help but think. _He had **no right** to lay his hands on me! _

But just as I even thought of hitting him, he suddenly turned and started pulling me. I was just about to yank my arm when I saw where he was swimming toward, towing me along.

_A shaft of light pierced the murky darkness._

Shoving my anger aside Ifelt a burst of new energy at finally seeing light. I swam along Mathayus. Drawing closer, and closer.

Suddenly, I was close to the smooth as glass water surface. I burst through.

Never before had the sweet desert air felt like such a gift from the gods. My feet felt solid ground. I stepped up from the waist deep water. At once my burning muscles seemingly became anew from the air.

It was then a child's sudden exclamation hit my water filled ears.

"May Gods be Praised!"

I looked up to see a boy around twelve with his mother, and a dozen other women washing clothes. It was when I saw the boy's round eyes a sudden realization as hard as the crashing water that I just swam through hit me.

I was still _naked_, and not just before the Akkadian (who had surfaced out-of-breath not long after me), but before an _entire crowd of people._

Never had I felt so humiliated or embarrassed in my life.

Seeing a garment floating in the water I snatched it up and covered my chest with it. I then whirled around to Mathayus. I blamed him for my humiliation, just as I blamed him for nearly making me drown. That anger that I had put away came back, in full force.

I went to claw him in the face with my long fingernails. He caught my wrist. With a stern face, he held on to my arm as I felt that anger that I had bottled up, suddenly burst.

"You _Brute_! _How **dare** you touch me!_" I yelled in a voice unlike my own. "Your head will ride a post! Your eyes will feed the birds! Your entrails will be strung from the highest-!"

Suddenly he yanked me close, so close I could feel his warm breath on my lips. Making me feel both violated, and… strangely heated.

"Sorceress," He said to me, his voice dangerous, his dark eyes locked on to mine. "I'm an Akkadian, engaged to kill you."

I couldn't help but tremble at that, seeing this he continued.

"Now I find myself in a position where your more of a use to me alive," Then his eyes suddenly went ablaze, "Don't make me change my mind."

At this I couldn't help but shiver more, not from the cold, or his message. But the look in those dark eyes. Never had I seen so much anger, hate, and danger in the eyes of a man.

It was then I knew, that I had just become prisoner to, not just the last of the Akkadians, but a feared assassin.

A cold-blooded killer, who would easily take my life if I didn't watch my step


	7. Assassin's Hostage

**_6_**

**_ASSASSIN'S HOSTAGE_**

_"Let the fear of danger be a spur to prevent it; he that fears not gives that advantage to the danger"_

_**Frances Quarles**_

**N**ot long after his blood chilling threat, Mathayus, bought me some simple brown linen Bedouin robes, and several scarves for both of us. The _Akkadian Brute_ forced me to lay an arm around his shoulders, while he laid one around my waist, a sharp dagger in his hand grazing my side. Making us look like traveling lover's lost in an embrace. Thus, while the Red Guard ran to the palace, the news of my capture just now reaching them, Mathayus and I strode out of the city of Gomorrah.

I said nothing to the Akkadian, and he spoke naught to me. It was until we had reached the rocky crag a while from the city did that… _Man _finally let go of my side.

"Don't even _think_ about running," He told me threateningly, putting away his knife, yet keeping that piercing gaze pointed at me.

I glared at him, but said nothing, trudging on along side him.

He seemed to be looking for something at this harsh place, it was among the ridge a while away from the city did Mathayus suddenly pause.

"Stop," He ordered, raising a hand.

I reluctantly obeyed. Watching him as he seemed to be straining his ears to hear something on the wind. I tilted my head slightly, curious, trying to hear what he had heard. Then suddenly, the Akkadian grinned.

"That's my camel alright," he said.

"What?" I said a bit confused, for my untrained ears had not heard a thing.

"Quiet," Mathayus demanded suddenly.

Not wanting to anger him further, that threat of his echoing in my mind, I quickly closed my mouth.

Suddenly the Akkadian let out a shrill whistle that seemed to echo across the desert. He seemed to be calling someone or (should I say) _something_.

It was when Mathayus put his hands on his hips did I finally hear it. The sound of running footsteps and saddle bells, along with the sound of something being dragged in the sand. In no time at all, the source of that sound became seen. It was none other the beautiful white camel that I had seen in my recent vision of the Akkadian. She loped up to her master, all the while dragging something in the sand that had hold of her reigns. Before him she stopped obediently, whatever she had dragged had stopped to, creating a small cloud of sand and dust. Then the Akkadian did something that quickly caught me off guard.

Mathayus actually smiled for the first time since I saw him, as he went up to the camel.

It was strange but I felt like, well, I couldn't take my eyes off that smile; it was then I suddenly felt a strange bit of resentment for that white camel. Not understanding my sudden feelings, I tried to think of something else. But my mind was empty of nothing but Mathayus' smile.

"Good girl, Hanna," He said, in a tender tone that had surprised me, and made a part of me twinge slightly in anger.

It was then, the sound of coughing had suddenly issued from that small dust cloud. It was then the scrawny, skinny, unkempt man that I had also seen in my last vision appeared. He eyes wide, looking at Mathayus.

"You are alive!" He exclaimed, obviously surprised. "I **_knew it!_**"

"Right," Mathayus said in a doubtful tone, (I couldn't help but agree).

"I-I was just saying to the camel that _no one_ could kill our good friend, Mathayus!" The smaller man said, obviously trying to convince the Akkadian that he wasn't trying to steal his camel, and doing a poor job I must say. "We were just off to look for you!"

"Well, you found me," The assassin said paying him no mind, stroking the camel –Hanna as he had called her –seeming to be making sure she was alright.

Giving up the scrawny man started to dust off his leather breeches and overly large cuirass. It was then he saw me. His eyes went wide.

"Whose your pretty friend?" He asked in a pleasant tone so unlike him that I rolled my eyes.

Mathayus turned to him.

"Memnon's sorcerer," He said flatly.

Suddenly that strange feeling I had towards the Akkadian vanished, I felt my fists clench as he spoke those words. I don't know why it angered me, I should be used to people saying that I was the Great Teacher's oracle; perhaps it was the why he said it, making me sound like I was still some object rather than a living breathing person (well, more or less these past few years anyway). As I glared at the Akkadian the thief had turned to him, his eyes wide, his jaw had dropped.

"Wh- what?"

"I mean what I say: that is _Memnon's sorcerer._"

It was then the Akkadian turned to Hanna, motioning for her to kneel. Quickly, without complaint the camel bent down, at a reasonable height for one to mount her nomadic saddle that she bore on her back. It was then Mathayus turned to me.

"Sorceress, get on," He demanded.

I walked to the camel, and was about to do as he said, when a sudden thought came to me. It turned to him.

"Why should I make it easier for _you_? You _were_ sworn to kill me." I asked frankly, cocking an eyebrow.

"Other's will die first." He answered me simply.

I glanced at the still shocked thief then looked to Mathayus.

"That's _comforting_," I replied sarcastically, mounting the camel.

Mathayus then leapt onto the saddle behind me, as to make sure that I wasn't to hop off and run. I couldn't help but be painfully aware of his strong arms on either side of me, grabbing a hold of the reigns. It was at this moment the small thief finally recovered from his short-lived shock.

"Are you _insane?_" He burst out suddenly. "Do you know what this means? You've stolen the _warlord's sorcerer!_ I don't whether to laugh or cry."

"You can **choke** for all I care, Arpid," Mathayus said bitterly, pulling at the reigns making Hanna get off her knees.

"Mathayus, why are you so cross with me?" the thief, Arpid, asked a bit cautiously.

"You where running off with **my camel**, Thief," Mathayus snapped so suddenly I couldn't help but wince.

"Well, if you failed to see, my friend, your camel was running off with **me!**" Arpid exclaimed, a bit insulted, yet a bit guilty.

Meanwhile, Mathayus had nudged Hanna into motion.

"So, Mathayus, partner," Arpid tentatively cried to him, running to keep up with the camel's long stride. "Where are we going?"

"The Valley of the Dead," The Akkadian replied, casually.

At this I could help but glance at him in surprise. Nor was I the only one to be taken off guard by the way he had casually said the named of the cursed desert.

"The.." Arpid started, stopping suddenly.

"Valley," Mathayus added.

"Of… The."

"Dead. Yes. Join us if you like," Mathayus called over his shoulder.

"But no one goes into the Valley of the Dead!" Arpid exclaimed running to catch up. "That's why they call it the _Valley of the Dead_! You go there, and you stay there. **Dead**!"

At this I glanced back to see Mathayus rolling his eyes at this. I couldn't help but agree. This horse thief's whining was becoming a major annoyance. Meanwhile Arpid continued.

"Don't you see?! Even _Memnon's armies_ would dare go there!" He yelled.

It was then I could feel Mathayus looked back to Arpid.

"Not even to regain the source of his battle prowess, his Seeress?"

_Ah!_ I thought. _That's what he meant when he said that he was in a 'position' where I could prove useful to him alive._

Meanwhile I could hear Arpid's footsteps start to slow, as though he was pondering this question. It was during his silence I decided to speak.

"So your going to use me _first_, and _then_ kill me?" I asked him.

Then without waiting for an answer I turned to the man sitting behind me.

"I feel _so much **better**_," I informed him bitterly.

"Well, I could always do it the other way around, and kill **you _first_**," Mathayus offered darkly.

I turned to throw him a scathing look, but said nothing. Deciding it may be best to keep my mouth shut until I felt confident enough to escape into the desert alone.

"Partner!" Arpid exclaimed, running alongside the camel once again. "It's not the death of Memnon and his bastards that trouble me. What about ours?"

It was then Mathayus said nothing. Nether did I.

For the first time since our conversation had started with him; the little thief had a point.


	8. Into the Valley of the Dead

**_7_**

**_INTO THE VALLEY OF THE DEAD_**

_"There's a man inside the beast, and a beast in all of us."_

_-Darren Romeo, **Sarmoti**_

**I **could tell from the way that he urged his camel on that Mathayus wanted to get as far away from Gomorrah, and fast as well. He must of known that Memnon would send soldiers searching the lands nearby the city high and low. Privately, I agreed with him.

We didn't stop and break camp until sometime early the next morning. Even that was for a short time. But despite the lack of sleep we three where wide awake the middle of the next afternoon. Perhaps this was a part of the Akkadian's plan, perhaps it was just the distance we traveled.

Whatever the reason, it did not take long for us to discover where we were in this ocean of gold.

On the very point of a rugged slope, in the middle of the scorching desert stood three tall poles. The tallest stood in the center. These poles bore warnings to whom so ever dared enter this once fertile land. Human skulls hung from the poles high shafts; pieces of stained red cloth drenched in what looked like dried blood; along with animal bones and skulls like lions, snakes, and jackals. Beyond that, a sea of dry sand and scorched earth.

These three poles had once served as markers, showing all who dared that this valley had belonged to the most deadliest race of all. It was after their tribe's destruction did this cursed valley earned it's name, for now in a place where there had been rivers, trees, and life had turned into a barren wasteland of death in less than a decade.

Once we saw these poles Mathayus forced Hanna to a stop, even atop the camel I could hear Arpid give a gulp.

"Are we… Where I think we are?" He asked the Akkadian hesitantly.

"Yes," Mathayus replied. "The Valley of the Dead."

Then, he took a deep breath an added one word that once again made me acutely aware that he was the last of his race.

"Home."

I turned to him to see Mathayus looking at those poles. His expression emotionless, yet I could see something in his dark eyes. It wasn't hatred, pain, or anger. For the first time I saw a different emotion in his eyes.

Regret.

Suddenly, I felt a wave a pity and understanding course through me. It was only then did I realize how hard the deaths of his brothers must have been for him.

Yes, the death of my mother had been tragic, but I was never allowed to grieve for her. The Great Teacher had forbid it. The only thing that had saved me from my pain was knowing that freedom would someday come to me at last.

But Mathayus was different, he did not know what would happen, and in those dark eyes I could sense something else flicker. He blamed himself for their deaths, he felt that he could of done something to save them. Even thought there was nothing to be done. They had been lost.

"Well, I'm guessing this means we've gone far enough," Arpid said, shattering the awkward silence.

Like waking from a trance, the painful look in the Akkadian's eyes was gone. And they had become as emotionless, hard, dark, and piecing as they had been before.

He nudged Hanna to kneel, meanwhile turning to the thief.

"No, Partner, just call this an Akkadian welcome."

"A welcome?" the small man said to the Akkadian in a doubtful tone.

Arpid then snorted and then added.

"Oh yes, why _don't_ we press on? Your friend is a _sorceress_, with _magic powers_. You're a trained _assassin_, not to mention a _hulking **barbarian**._ Who among us could get hurt in a battle?"

"Who indeed?" Mathayus shrugged as he dismounted the camel.

"I don't know," Arpid said in mock wonderment. "Me, the _skinny thief,_ perhaps?"

"Coming to this place was of _your own choice_ Arpid," Mathayus reminded him. "Your free to go when you please."

The horse thief shook his head, having nothing to say since we all knew it to be true.

Meanwhile, the Akkadian had suddenly turned to me, face expressionless. His left hand went suddenly to the side of my face, as he tried to brush my hair away. I felt a sharp burning shock of surprise course in my skin at his touch, but I did not pay it any mind since bit of my anger still burned from the other day.

"Don't _touch me_, you _brute,_" I said, offended, and insulted that he would dare to lay his hands on me a second time.

I caught his wrist, but he firmly pulled it away. Then suddenly he brushed the side of my face again, grabbed one of the hoop earrings that I had still since the day I had the vision of him escaping the fire ants, and unhooked it from my ear. I couldn't help but be confused.

_Why would he want one of my few belongings?_

I tried to grab the earring to reclaim it back when Mathayus moved away, walking to those poles. Deftly he hooked it onto the tall center one, where the sun caught it, making it gleam.

"You _beast_," I snapped. "What, in the _name_ of the_ gods_, are you doing?"

Mathayus turned to me and gave me a slight smile that made me shiver all the way to my core.

"Nothing in the name of the Gods," He replied simply. "I'm just marking the way for your lord and master."

At his last words I felt cold hard fury mostly replace that strange quivering that I could feel, still in lingering in my skin. A part of me wanted to burst with the truth that only I knew. But I doubted he would believe me, so instead I told him angrily:

"No _man_, is my **_master, Akkadian_**."

He snickered at that, as if my anger amused him, walking to me and his camel.

"Perhaps not," He replied, mounting Hanna behind me, prodding her to get up. "But your view isn't important to me, Sorceress… How Memnon sees you is all I care about."

I said nothing in return, since I knew it would be a lie if I contradicted him. As sickening as it may be, it didn't mean it wasn't true.

Mathayus jogged Hanna along into the blistering desert sun. But it was perhaps made worst by the number of skeletons that lie along the roadside of poor travelers who must of ran out of food and (what's most valuable for us desert dwellers) water. They didn't stand a chance in this unforgiving place. And now their remains where grotesque reminders of what this desert can do to even the most wisest of men.

It was then something crawled it's way from the eye socket of one of the human skulls. Something that caught my attention.

A scorpion, and a large deadly black one as well, with poison so potent that one sting can kill any that dared to threatened it.

I stiffened as I saw it. The Akkadian must of seen and felt my reaction, since he suddenly spoke up.

"What's wrong, Witch?" He asked, amused. "Afraid of a little bug?"

I turned to his mocking smile and went to give an angry reply when suddenly something flashed in my eye, like a knife in my consciousness…

_Mathayus… That scorpion…The two where one, bound by some unknown tie…_

Then it ended as soon as it came.

It was then I knew, with a knowledge I couldn't explain, that Mathayus, the last of the Akkadians, was tied to that scorpion. To all scorpions in fact.

But why, or truly how, I did not know.

---

For the rest of the day we three traveled under the burning sun. Every now and then Mathayus would walk Hanna, he would also sometimes relent and let Arpid ride as well (I could sense he was growing a bit of respect for the thief, he _had _made it this far after all).

But when night came Mathayus, who seemed afraid that lack of sleep may trouble us later on, insisted we make camp.

Arpid looked rather relived, and I chose not to argue.

Soon, after a meal of desert dates and dried meat, we fell asleep on to blankets that the Akkadian provided us.

I must have been the first to give in to sleep, then Arpid, then Mathayus.

How we managed to sleep with Arpid snoring as loudly as he did has always been mystery to me. Still we slept. Well, **they** slept until a loud snort snore from the noisy thief woke **me** up.

Rather groggily, I looked to the source of my sudden wake, Arpid, wrapped up in his blankets as if he had been tied up into a knot. It was then I turned to where the assassin lay. Mathayus was asleep, no blankets covering his chest. His scimitar crossed over his leather cuirass, gleaming in the starry light. Ready for any sudden attacks.

A sudden idea snapped me wide awake.

_I could escape._

This time was as good as any other. With both the Akkadian and the horse thief fast sleep, I could slip away into the desert, to my freedom, with nobody noticing until morning light.

As silently as I could make myself, I pushed the blankets off. Quietly I stood up, and started to head away from camp. I walked at first, glancing back at Mathayus, making sure he still lay in, what I hoped to be, (which was doubtful thanks to Arpid sounding like a heard of elephants) deep sleep. Then five paces away from the little camp I started to run.

I knew that Memnon would send men looking for me. But maybe if I kept heading east as fast as I knew I could run, I was sure I could find some group of nomads to take me away.

Away, to get away from the wicked Great Teacher forever.

_Oh gods, Thank you!_ I prayed to them as I ran._ Thank you so much! _

I could feel my hopes rise, my heart swell…

…And a sudden pull at my ankle send me crashing down into the sand.

I rolled onto my back as a pain shot up my ankle, breathing hard. I sat up and bent over to see a white silk cord as thick as a small chain tied around my ankle.

_How did that get there?_

It was then I remembered, how I fell asleep before the others. I grabbed a hold of the cord and yanked on it as hard as I could.

And, as if I was calling his name a figured appeared, seemingly materializing from the darkness, the silk cord tied to his own ankle as well.

Mathayus.

My heart thudded loudly in my ears as he gave a slight satisfied smile when he saw me laying in the sand.

"And _where_ are **you** going, Sorceress?" Mathayus asked lightly. "You think you'll find _your king_ in the desert somewhere? What's wrong? Do you miss your **beloved**?"

At once I felt such an anger as never before course and flood into my heart.

_How **dare he** speak of things that are not true! How **dare he** speak of things he didn't understand!_

Normally, I would of sat there in the sand, stewing in my own anger, restraining myself from causing any inflections. But something in me shattered when he spoke, making me forget that he was a seasoned warrior and I was just a trainee in combat arts. I forgot my magic. I forgot practicalities. Perhaps it was because sitting there trying to ignore my anger is what I had been doing my whole life, perhaps it was frustration that I could not understand what I honestly felt for the Akkadian even though I was so angry at him.

Whatever it was, my restrain broke, and went foreword and did something that was rather stupid on my part.

I leapt up and swung a fist at him.

He dodged it. I swung another fist at him. He dodged it as well. I could see the surprise written in his eyes, but I didn't care. All I knew as I wanted him to eat his words, every one of his words that he had spoken about me and that **_Monster._**

I tried to swing at his temple, but he ducked under my arm, causing me to swing around fully.

Suddenly I faced him once again, my rage reaching it's boiling point. I charged foreword with a savage cry, wishing to knock him down. Mathayus had anticipated my move, grabbing my by my forearms when I drew near, and throwing me to the sandy ground so hard that all of my air was pushed from me. Just as I caught my breath, his muscled body was laying atop of my own, pinning me down. For a short time I laid there in a daze, for I couldn't help but notice how our bodies seemed to mold into each other. But it was short lived for his voice broke my shock and my anger returned swiftly.

"Are you in _that much _of a hurry to get back to Memnon?" He asked, pinning my wrists back.

"No! I'm in a hurry to get away from **_you!_**" I snapped, at him. "Memnon is not my beloved, _Barbarian!_ He is not my lover!I am a _**virgin**!_"

Mathayus gave me a strange, stunned look. At once I realized my sudden audacity, especially considering the... _position_ I currently found myself in. A blush started to burn my cheeks, until I went to explain.

"My power's stem from my purity. Even that **_Monster,_** **_Memnon _**would not **_dare_** defile **_me!_**"

Mathayus looked at me with a surprised look in his eye when I spat the Great Teacher's name like you would of something vile. But before he could ask I lashed out once again.

"Apologize to me. **Now!**"

He took a deep sigh, and released my wrists. Allowing me to prop myself up so slightly on my elbows.

"I am sorry. Truly." He spoke seriously.

Mathayus' tone suggested he meant it. But I looked to his face, searching for his cutting sarcasm and cold insincerity. After all he had showed me nothing but both since he had forced me to this hellish desert.

Neither shown. He _did_ mean it, even his dark eyes seem to say it.

It was then I knew that he would finally listen to the story I wished to tell him. I lowered my eyes.

"I was eleven, when Memnon heard the stories of a girl-child performing miracles with magic," I spoke, my voice quivering a bit. "A girl who could see with the eyes of the gods. He rode in to my village to see if the rumors where true. He had four of his soldiers line up at attention before me. He took me before them demanded. 'Tell me the names of these men.' I asked him 'What if I get a name wrong?', since I was just learning my gift. Then he said, 'Then that wrong answer means that man's death'."

"His own men?" Mathayus breathed, agape at my words.

I nodded.

"But… You where just a child…"

"I know, and I was terrified, but what could I do? I went to each and greeted them all by their names. After, when Memnon turned to leave I have a vision and I …Well, some say the gods spoke through me that day, speaking a prophecy that later destroyed those I loved…"

I paused taking a shaky breath. I had never recuperated from this after all these years, and didn't know if I could say anymore. Suddenly, Mathayus spoke.

"What happened… Cassandra?"

Perhaps, it was because he had spoke my name for the first time, the way it rolled off his tongue gave me courage. Perhaps it was because when I looked up I saw something different in his eyes. Whatever it was I could feel my will to speak strengthen.

"He rode in to my village, and those four soldiers that I saved killed my father and little brother as me and my mother, who had been teaching me how to use my powers, where taken away.

"When I was thirteen my mother and I tried to come up with a plan to escape. Memnon discovered it and killed my mother, right in front of me."

I looked to Mathayus who wore a stunned look on his face. Yet he managed to ask me, "Why did you help me that night I came into your tent?"

"I knew you where the one man who could help me escape," I told him. "I saw it in a vision that I had before I… Before I tried to kill myself."

Mathayus lowered his head suddenly making it hard to see his eyes, then he looked to me. His dark eyes locking with mine. In them I saw neither hatred nor anger nor coldness. But understanding.

Softly the Akkadian spoke, "The 'Great Teacher' had taught his lessons to us all, has he not?"

He pulled a knife from his belt, bent down, and cut the line from around my ankle. Mathayus then stood up looking down to me, as I looked up to him surprised.

_What was he doing?_

"Run if you like." He said suddenly. "You're not longer my prisoner. But keep this in mind: There are worst dangers out there than me."

Then he turned and walked back to the camp's dying fire.

I looked east, where I had planned on running. The desert looked inviting, washed in the blue in the night. But I could feel a strange tug.

Mathayus did have a point, he knew these deserts far better than I ever could. Not only that, but if I was to run into some desert brute I would (most likely with my lack of a weapon) not stand a chance and only the gods knew what would happen then. And what if I were to run into Memnon's men?

Then I would be taken back and forced to live the life that I hated so much, with the… **_Monster_** who wanted to force me to do acts with my body that should only be done with someone I loved.

I took a deep breath, still gazing at the desert. Even at this distance I could feel Mathayus' eyes on me, waiting to see what I could do.

_Mathayus…_

I couldn't help but wonder, what kind of man was he to stand up to Lord Memnon? So few had dared to challenge his might, knowing that death would meet them if they did.

What would happen to him if I disappeared and he was ran into Memnon's men? He didn't know the Great Teacher's tactics like I did. He could be walking to his death.

It was strange, but I couldn't help but feel the hand of worry tug on my heartstrings like a harp at the thought of this. I looked to the camp, and felt a worry grow in my heart at the thought of leaving.

It was then I decided.

_I must stay. He may need my help._

Taking a deep sigh, I stood up, glanced one last time out onto the desert as I brushed the sand off my robes, then I turned back to the camp.

As I approached it I could see Mathayus, knelt down, tending the fire while Arpid lay still sound asleep. The Akkadian looked up when I approached the camp. I could almost swear I saw a wave of relief flash in the dark eyes of the assassin.

Yet he only asked lightly, "Changed your mind?"

I took a deep breath.

"If I where to run in this desert," I spoke softly. "Where would I go? I have no home, no relatives, nothing."

Mathayus nodded, his eyes showing with understanding.

"Besides you may need my help." I added, walking over to my blankets, and sitting down. "I know more about that hollow king than anyone would ever wish to."

"True," He said, turning to me. "What would the bastard of a king do in this situation?"

"He's smarter than you think," I replied. "He won't go marching into the desert unless he has an army behind him."

"You mean not even for you and your powers?"

I nodded.

"Then his not smarter than I thought, just more cowardly," Mathayus noted, shaking his head at such.

It was strange, but I had to try to keep a smile from creeping it's way onto my face. Mathayus turned to me.

"What will he do then, if he's not coming here?"

I thought for a bit at this, then answered.

"He will, most likely, send a band of his best men here. With his man Thorak in the lead."

"He won't come and yet the bastard will send his maggots to do his dirty work?" Mathayus asked, cocking an eyebrow.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"As you said, he does need me," I replied. "But that's as far as his… _'affections'_ for anyone will go. He's to worried about self preservation, and conquering his next kingdom to wonder in the desert. Even for his 'great sorcerer', as they have called me."

He shook his head. I looked to him curiously.

"So, what will you do?" I asked.

Mathayus turned to the fire and went back to tending it.

"I don't know just yet, but I do know I'll give Thorak and his men a bit more than what they bargained for. But until than, Cassandra…"

He turned to me.

"You may want to get some rest. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow."

I nodded and laid down onto my blankets, not even bothering to pull up my covers.

For a long time I laid there, staring up at the stars. Even after Mathayus went back to his blankets. I laid there thinking of him as he slept, wondering what kind of man he was, really.

Not knowing that the feeling that I had for him had started to grow so I couldn't ignore it anymore. A feeling that I would not recognize until much later.

I had fallen in love with the Akkadian. Fallen for him heart and soul.

And my future was now entwined with his


	9. Sandstorms and Poisoned Arrows

_**8**_

_**SANDSTORMS AND POISONED ARROWS**_

_"Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm"_

_-**Joseph Addison**_

**W**hen we broke camp the next morning, I still didn't know what Mathayus' plan was, but I did notice that he seemed a bit troubled. Why, I did not know, but I could feel that would not be a problem for him.

Later that morning I found myself, astride Hanna, in front of Mathayus, lost in thought. Meanwhile, Arpid trudged alongside us, oddly quiet for the first time in a awhile.

It was then, quite suddenly, Mathayus stopped the camel, and wheeled her around. I turned to look to him, surprised at this sudden move. His dark eyes seemed to be scanning the horizon. Looking intently for something. I noticed that they where suddenly locked onto a dust cloud awhile behind us.

"What are you looking for?" Arpid asked when he saw Mathayus' sudden stop.

The Akkadian didn't answer. But instead reached into a saddlebag and pull out a strange wooden cylinder, and a clear-as-a-water-droplet crystal. He placed the crystal into a small slot and peered into the wooden tube. He turned the crystal slightly to one side, then to the other side. Then he lowered the cylinder, a smile on his face.

"Thorak," He said simply.

The horse thief gave an unhappy groan at this.

"Well, well, what a surprise. I wonder how he could have found us… Oh, yes, you had to leave him that _marker_," Arpid said sarcastically.

"Yes, I did," Mathayus replied. "And now the fool is walking right into danger."

_Danger?_ I couldn't help but wonder. Nor was I the only one.

"Oh really?" Arpid said in obvious mock curiosity.

"Really."

Arpid looked to Mathayus, as if fearing for his sanity.

"How many men are with him?"

Mathayus lifted up the wooden cylinder and crystal, and peered threw for a short while.

"About a dozen, I'd say."

"A _dozen,_" Arpid repeated stressing those last words as if the Great Teachers army had come instead of Thorak. "A _dozen_ of _Memnon's best men_ against _three _of us. One a women, one a sniveling coward, and one a barbarian."

"No need to worry now, Horse Thief," Mathayus replied. "The man is riding into a storm."

I couldn't help but study him with curiosity at these words. There was not a cloud in sight, and there weren't any other signs of a sudden weather change.

"A storm?" I repeated, saying it like a question.

Mathayus nodded.

As I was about to ask what he meant, Arpid spoke.

"If you don't mind me saying, Partner. You're no storm, you're just a man. A man among many, I grant you. But just _one_ man."

I could see Mathayus, grin down to the smaller man. Then gaze onto the horizon opposite the one that Thorak and his men where stirring up sand and dust. Meanwhile, Arpid sighed at the Akkadian's response and shook his head.

"This has to be, without a doubt, the worst fix you've gotten me into yet," He muttered.

I glanced at the scruffy thief then to Mathayus._ What was he looking at that made him so happy about fighting the unbeatable group of men?_ I looked onto the horizon that Mathayus stood smiling at. It was then I saw it.

Like a brown shadow on the edge of the horizon, shimmering its way closer and closer to us. _What is that?_ I wondered.

Meanwhile the small thief had noticed the brown shimmering shadow, and said, "I believe I've spoke too soon. Partner, this has to be, without a doubt, the _worst_ fix I've ever been in!"

"The day is young, Thief," Mathayus replied.

I glanced at the two men before me. Then I looked once again onto that strangely shadowed horizon that seemed to creep closer and closer. It was then a gentle wind blew. A wind that carried a strange sound, like a low howl of falling sand and wind. With startling clarity I understood Mathayus' glee.

"Oh Gods save us!" I gasped. "It's a sandstorm!"

"And it's right on time," the Assassin said, proudly.

The loud howl seemed to grow louder and louder. Becoming more and more bone-chilling.

"Oh yes!" The horse thief cried. "Who _would not_ want this? I was just thinking how this would be perfect if a sandstorm came along around now and-."

"If you listen to me Arpid, and stop uttering nonsense then perhaps you may live to yell more," the Akkadian said his voice suddenly deadly serious.

Arpid closed his mouth as the Assassin, nudged Hanna into a kneel, quickly getting off of her. Pulling out some blankets from his saddlebag he turned to me as I climbed off the saddle.

"I must leave you here," He said, his voice steady.

I could feel fear take my heart as I swallowed hard at this, but nodded my understanding. Yet, I could not help but feel strangely struck but this thought.

He turned to Arpid, and I.

"Stay here, and cover up," He told me and Arpid.

As He tossed Arpid the thick blanket, I stepped foreword to ask him what he planned to do. As I did he turned to me, his eyes held mine for a short while. Speaking more than what he told me:

"I'll be fine. Just cover up."

Then he went to Hanna and climbed back onto the saddle, as he did so he pulled a thick leather battle mask over his face. It was then he yawed Hanna in the direction of Thorak and his men.

As soon as Mathayus disappeared over a sand dune the roaring storm had started raging towards at an alarming pace. It was almost upon us now. Quickly, without a word spoken between us, we covered ourselves with the thick blanket, and laid down into the sand, just as the storm roared over us.

How long we laid there in the sand, I cannot say; but it, honestly, seemed like an eternity. An eternity of lashing wind, and holding on tightly to our only cover to keep it from blowing into the wind.

All the while I laid there, I wondered what deadly battle was Mathayus participating in? Was he still swinging his sword in to one of Memnon's men or was a sword being swung into him? Was his still alive, breathing, and being battered by this storm, or was his corpse being batter by the storm before becoming one of the many lost to the Valley of the Dead?

Worry plagued me as I lay there in the sand, hoping, praying to the gods above that, somehow, he would be as alive and well as the last time I saw him.

After a long time of waiting and worrying, the whipping wind suddenly stopped, as did the roaring sand. Roughly, the horse thief pulled our now sand covered blanket down, blinding sunlight seemingly blazed above as if nothing had happened even though it felt as if we hadn't seen it in days.

As Arpid pulled down the blanket, sand in dust stirred, as soon as its grittiness entered my mouth I started to cough. Arpid helped pulled me to my feet, and as soon as I was steady I turned to the dune that, moments before, Mathayus had crossed with Hanna, leaving us to wait for him.

"The Akkadian."

Without saying a word, Arpid and I ran up the dune. We crossed several other sand dunes when we say it. Bodies laying in the sand, partially covered by the storm. Even though the dust covered their turbans I could still see the familiar blazing red and Memnon's royal crest. But there seemed to be no sign of Mathayus.

"It's like the storm carried him to some distant place," Arpid breathed.

"We _must _look for him." I insisted. "We _must _search."

Arpid nodded, worry for our missing companion and leader written on his face.

We called Mathayus's name, hoping he would hear. Nothing happened. We called again, still nothing.

Suddenly an nearby mound of sand shifted! Then another, and suddenly with sand pouring off them two of the surviving horses from Memnon's once unbeatable guard papered.

"We'll have mounts at least," Arpid remarked at the sight of the horses.

I nodded, but continued on my search for Mathayus. .

_He's still alive, he just **has** to be._

Then there was a familiar snort then another sand mound rose.

Hanna.

Arpid walked up to the camel, patting her muzzle.

"No sign of her master," I noted, searching the sand.

"He has to be here, at least his body does," Arpid replied.

It's odd how those simple words had an effect on me. I could almost feel something in me twist at the thought of Mathayus dead. Quickly I used my power, scanning the desert, searching the once terrible, battleground.

"I don't sense him dead," I said once I was done with my search. "He's still alive, and has to be here, somewhere."

The Horse Thief turned to the camel.

"Where is he, girl?" He asked her. "Where's Mathayus?"

Hanna seemed to take these words into consideration. She turned to a mound of sand next to her and snorted at it. Suddenly the sand shifted.

Then a figure emerged, like _Asar _rising from the dead. Sand and dust pouring off him, as he got to his feet. His hand went to his dusty, sand covered battle mask, and peeled it off. My heart seemingly swelled at the sight of him.

_Mathayus._

At that moment another sand covered figure reveled himself as well. His demon-like dark eyes wide in death. Thorak.

"For an ugly bastard, he sure does make a pretty sight," Arpid remarked at the sight of the body.

Mathayus went to me, his dark eyes filled with so much concern it struck me.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did they-?" He asked.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I'm untouched."

He then breathed a sigh of relief.

It was then I wondered, why did he partake in such a fierce battle? For gaining an upper hand on the Great Teacher? To avenge his brother's death?

Or simply to save me from the man who had destroyed my family and had me prisoner?

Perhaps it was all of this, his cause to be a soldier in this battle was known to him, and him alone.

"I'm fine, thanks," Arpid said when he noticed that Mathayus had not asked him. "I really appreciate your concern, by the way."

Mathayus turned to the thief and rolled his eyes, I let a sliver of a smile creep on my face.

Knowing that he was alive had left a warm feeling in my heart, yet… I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of foreboding in my chest.

"Are you alright?" I asked him instinctively.

"I'm fine," He said turning to me.

It was then I saw it, an arrow shaft embedded in his leg. At once my dark sense spread like a drop of blood in water.

"You need help," I gasped when I saw it.

Mathayus bent over, and grabbed a hold of the arrow's shaft. He yanked at it in hopes of pulling it out. I could feel my heart twist at the sound of the arrowhead as Mathayus pulled it out of his flesh. Then in a sickening, fleshy ripping noise, Mathayus pulled the arrow and its head out of his leg.

He gave a groan of pain, but threw the arrow to the sand. The Akkadian turned to Thorak, knelt down, and tore the amulet that bore Memnon's insignia from his cold throat.

"Help me find his horse," Mathayus said.

"It's over there," Arpid said, pointing to a great brown horse.

Mathayus walked to the horse and inspected the saddle, Arpid and I not far behind.

"Another survivor," he said proudly.

Mathayus turned to us, displaying what he had found. Perched on his hand, looking slightly wind ruffled was a brown, white, and gray falcon. A cowl was attached to its leg. Mathayus unfolded the cowl, and put Thorak's necklace onto the leather folds.

"What are you doing?" I asked gently, putting a hand on his arm.

"Sending the Great Teacher a message," Mathayus replied.

It was odd, but he seemed to look at bit unsteady, his dark eyes losing focus. Never the less, he folded the small leather package, and sent the flacon winging it's way to Gomorrah.

Mathayus watched it fly, hands on his hips, and gave a hearty laugh. A laugh that suddenly turned into a cough. A cough with blood in it.

"Mathayus!" I cried, running to his side.

He was doubling over, as if he had received a sudden blow to the stomach. He looked as if he was barely conscious.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice quivering, filled with fear, my shaking hand onhis shoulder.

"Poi… poison," He managed to make out.

Then I felt my heart almost rip from my chest as he fell to his knees, and pitch forward into the sand.

* * *

**Author's Note-** The God, _Asar,_inwhich Cassandra is talking about is the Egyptian name for the god Osiris, the god of the underworld. 


	10. A Touch of Magic

_**9**_

_**A TOUCH OF MAGIC**_

"_He made heka (magic) for them, t__o use as a weapon for warding off occurrences,_

_And he made them dreams for the night, t__o see the things of the day"_

_-**Instruction for Pharaoh Merikara, Dynasty 10**_

**T**hat night we camped on the edge of the sandstorm battlefield. Arpid tended the fire with what little kindling we had, while I tended to Mathayus.

First I cleaned the wound as best as I could with what little water we had left with us in our waterskin, once the wound was cleaned I tore at the hem of my robes to create a make shift bandage, then I wetted a scrap of cloth and dabbed his forehead in hopes of cooling him.

The arrows potent poison had thrust Mathayus into a terrible fever. He shivered as though cold, as beads of perspiration formed on his forehead. He would mumble sometimes in his deadly delirium, sometimes we would understand the words he spoke, but among those words where "Jesup", "Rama", "Memnon", and…

"Cassandra".

Every time he spoke my name it almost felt like a part of my beating heart was being ripped from me. It was at this moment I truly understood how deeply I felt for the Akkadian and I couldn't bear the thought of losing him. Not when I had my first vision of him, and definitely not now that I had fallen so deeply in love with him, in more ways than one.

I sat there by his side, pondering what to do when a sudden voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Tell me, Sorceress," Arpid spoke in a hushed voice. "Do you think you can save him?"

I turned to Arpid, a small ember of hope igniting inside my heart.

"Perhaps, but his fever is high and strong," I told him. "The poison was that of the scorpion."

I could see a wave of shock pass in the eyes of the Horse Theif.

"How can you tell? Was it from his signs of sickness?" He asked, stunned.

I shook my head.

"I just _know,_" I replied. "This man is tied to the scorpion in some mystical way that only the gods truly know why. If his does live through the night, the blood and poison of the scorpion will forever flow through his veins."

Arpid looked to my curiously.

"The poison in his blood in a good thing?" He asked, eyebrows rasied.

"It may give him strength of the scorpion itself. As well as resistance to any further poisonings. Should anymore be attempted on his life."

Arpid took a sigh. I could see he had quickly made up his mind.

"Well, Sorceress, you better work your magic. He knows this desert better than the both of us combined. If he dies, then we won't be long in following."

I had naught to say to this. I certainly did not tell the Horse Thief that we had a sliver of a chance of Mathayus surviving even with my magic. I also had a mind not to tell Arpid what would possibly happen if I tried to heal him with every fiber of my soul and being. I knew this:

If I was to heal Mathayus, I was to take the essence poison into myself. This would prevent his soul from desending to the underworld. However, this was something that could kill us both if done lightly.

Iturned my gazeto the sky, as if asking the gods above 'what should I do?'. A full moon blazed like fireabove me. Looking at that silveryorb I felt a strong wave ofreassurance over come me like a warm blanket had been put on my sholders.

With a knowledge I couldn't explain, I knew I had to put my faith in the gods, and my magic. At that moment I could care less if I died, just as long as I knew that Mathayus would keep breathing.

"He will not die," I promised tomyself a loud. _Not if I have any say in this._

"But you said that-" Arpid started, confused.

"Hush, little thief," I told him gently. "Do not interrupt."

"Interrupt?" Arpid repeated, even more puzzled than before. "What are you-?"

"Hush," I repeated.

I needed silence for this ceremony was to be, perhaps, the most sacred, the most important, and most dangerous one I would ever dare to preform.

I took a deep breath, and put my leg on to the other side of the unconscious Akkadian so I sat astride his hips. I lowered the scarf I wore from my head, letting it fall gently from my shoulders.

I crossed my hands across my chest in ceremony, my eyes to the moon, silently praying.

_Oh Auset! Oh Selqit! Oh Djehuti! Please, hear my prayer_

_And come to my aid. _

_I cannot find it in my heart to let this man die, I must save him. _

_Please, help a daughter of your craft in her darkest hour, _

_guide me and_ _help me in my time of great need._

I could feel a strange thrumming energy course through my skin, blood, and bone. I closed my eyes briefly and took a deep breath. I then leaned over Mathayus, uncrossing my arms. I gently opened his mouth, calling for the essence that was slowly killing him.

I could see a small sphere of golden light as it rose from the Akkadian and took it into myself. I could quickly feel a scorching sensation in my blood, suddenly my stomach clenched, and darkness suddenly clouded my vision.

I could slightly feel myself falling next to Mathayus, and I distantly heard Arpid call aloud.

"Sorceress!"

But I could not answer. I was falling forever into that darkness.

My life and Mathayus' life, now lay in the hands of the gods.

* * *

**_Author's Note_-**_Auset_, is the Egyptian name for Isis, the main goddess of magic, healing, and wife of Osiris. _Selqit_ is the scorpion goddess, one prayed to for the cure ofscorpion stings. And _Djehuti_ is the Egyptian name for Thorth the god of magic and medicine. 


	11. A Scarred Soul

_**Author's Note-** The Witch is **BACK!!** Cackles madly until she realizes people are watching_

_Okay, okay, I really must apologize for the absolutely absurd lateness of this recent chapter. Already I have written and rewritten it at least four to five times, gone through bits of writer's block, as well as having my muse suddenly disappear and reappear at the strangest of intervals. I truly hope this chapter is worth your while since it's pretty much purely my creation.. It may seem quite odd at first, but I hope a bit will be explained as well. At least fan fictionally speaking anyway. _

**

* * *

**

**_10_**

_**A SCARRED SOUL**_

"_Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; _

_the most massive characters are seared with scars."_

_-**Kahlil Gibran**_

**D**arkness. Pure and utter darkness is what greeted me, at first. I felt as if my soul were caught. Tilting dangerously between this world and the next. Trapped on a plane of existence my own magic had sent me for the man I had grown to love since that very first vision of him all those years ago.

Then I felt a strange sensation overcome me. I felt as if I was falling thought oblivion, a void of nothingness. Panic quickly overcame me, filling me with fear.

_Great Gods, help me!_ Had my sudden bout of confidence been nothing more then a foolish mistake? Had I been so arrogant to perform the ritual wrong? Was I not trained enough to perform a ceremony so sacred and dangerous such as this?

Or was this my destiny and that of the Akkadian's, to die in this desert side by side?

_No, _I thought. _Had that rang true I would have sensed something, **anything** to warn me. Besides, I must put my faith in the Gods, and pray they are with me. That they will help me save him._

Suddenly the dangerous sensation stopped as abruptly as it had started. And a tingling warmth that erupted in my skin replaced it. There was a flash of golden light that temporarily blinded my vision. Then images filled my mind, like those of memories.

Memories that were not my own…

…_**Two Akkadian boys ran through the dirt streets of their village, as the red sun started to set. Both wore faces of a certain type of happiness. As if they were running to something that they had waited to happen for quite a long time.**_

_**Out of the two boys I couldn't help but be strangely aware of the youngest one. The boy who was slightly lagging behind with his shining brown eyes, and copper skin. His dark hair fell to his chin, yet a single strand fell past his shoulders in a small braid. From his young manner I guessed he couldn't have been more than six or seven years of age. I could tell that from his braid, and the unmarked leather cuirass he wore on his chest he must have just started his warrior training.**_

_**For some reason or another I could feel as if I knew him from somewhere, but where I could not yet place.**_

"_**Brother wait up!" He called to the boy far ahead of him, running to catch up. **_

_**I could suddenly see the older boy slow down a bit for his younger brother.**_

_**He shared several traits with the boy before him. He had the same copper skin, dark hair, nose and brow, yet he looked so different from the little one. His jaw was squarer, and his cheekbones were a bit more broad. He may have been ten years old, but young wisdom shone from his eyes. His hair fell to his shoulders, and his braids were a bit more plentiful. He also wore a cuirass with several scars in the leather material.**_

"_**Come on, Little Brother!" He said to his younger companion. "When father arrives from battle in the Warrior's March do you want to be in the back of the crowd where no one can see?"**_

"_**No, of course I don't," The little boy replied, instantly quickening his pace to keep up with his older brother.**_

_**The two turned to corner to see a crowd of many people along the cities main dirt street. All were women, children, old men, and young warrior's unable to join in the latest fierce war. **_

"_**The march has already started!" The little boy exclaimed, obviously excited.**_

"_**Well, let's not just stand here!" His older brother scoffed, yet he too could not contain his glee. **_

_**They both ran into the crowd, pushing just like the excited children they were to get to the front. Just as they finally made it to the edge of the dirt street the crowd of Akkadian people let out a roaring cheer. For at that moment, their warriors had just started to march down the lane.**_

"_**Do you see Father yet?" the older boy asked his little brother, peering in the sunlight to try to see the faces of the warriors that marched into their village.**_

"_**No, but we'll see him soon," the younger boy replied to his brother, his sudden confident tone surprising me.**_

_**It was then something about the Akkadian warriors made it's self known in the near dying sunlight. All of them wore hardened looks on their faces, as if they were fighting a great grief inside. Odd, since the Akkadian's where a tribe of warriors. There had been legends of their war celebrations. All of them making one thing clear: **_

_**When they win a victory they made it known to even the high mountains that surrounded their valley.**_

_**The younger boy seemed to notice this as well. As did some of the other Akkadians, who stopped cheering and whispered among themselves.**_

"_**Someone of importance must have been injured," Spoke a elderly Akkadian warrior behind the young boy. **_

_**These words caught the youth's attention.**_

"_**Brother," The little boy spoke, turning to his older brother; his face looking slightly alarmed. "Did Prince Urmhet go to battle? Did he get wounded?"**_

_**His older brother turned to him, and shook his head.**_

"_**Remember, he was commanding the east wing since King Rahotep gave him that privilege on his birthday?" He reminded. "That was pretty long ago. Little Brother. Besides this is the wing that came to the Prince Urmhet's aid once he called for them."**_

_**The little boy's face suddenly filled with realization. **_

"_**That's right, sorry Brother, so much has happened since then."**_

_**The older boy nodded.**_

_**Once again, the two boys directed their attention to the march before them. As they did, it had become rather obvious to the whole crowd something was quite wrong. They had won the war so why weren't their warriors celebrating? The only reason why they wouldn't be was either a person of royal family was injured…**_

_**Or a great warrior had been slain.**_

_**The boys continued to search for their father's face, the youngest standing on his tiptoes to get a better look at the warriors. All the while, his face was starting to show with worry.**_

"_**Where is he? Where is Father?" The young boy seemed to ask impatiently to no one in particular. **_

_**His eyes flitting from one warrior's face to another, almost looking as if they were praying to the gods above for a familiar face to rest on.**_

"_**I don't know, Brother," His older brother replied, he too was searching.**_

_**It was at this moment the cart that hauled the dead had started to rolling into the streets of Akkad. The young boy gave a gulp when he heard its creaking wooden wheels draw near. The simple cart drew closer and closer, the noise echoing in the boys head like the sound of doom, then the cart pulled by a single black horse rolled before the two boys. **_

_**At first, the young boy looked utterly confused. After all, around him he could hear gasps of shock and women suddenly break into tears. He just didn't understand.**_

_**Why where they crying over this single warrior, wrapped in royal red linen so that his face would not be seen by the world?**_

_**Rather abruptly, he felt his older brother grasp his shoulder.**_

"_**We have to go," He told his young brother. Looking at the warrior whose face was hidden in the blood red funeral shroud.**_

_**The young boy looked to his older companion with confused eyes, and opened his mouth to question when his brother snapped. **_

"**_Now, Brother."_**

_**The two boys ran, following the cart. The older one, looking grave. The younger one looking baffled. Why was his brother acting so peculiar? And why were people he didn't ever know looking at him with such sad eyes?**_

_**Every now and then he glanced to the cart. When he saw something that made him gasp. A familiar glint of steel that had caught his young eye. **_

_**There, next to the dead warrior's side, was a rather familiar rather beautiful looking scimitar. The pommel of gold and dark wood seemed to gleam in the red sunlight **_

_**The boy must have known whose scimitar this was. His jaw had dropped, his bright eyes darkened and widen in horror.**_

"_**Brother!" He started in a bit of panic. "Is- is that…"**_

_**But he could not continue. Shock wouldn't let him speak.**_

"_**Come on," His older brother spoke quietly. "We must find mother quickly. She'll need us when…"**_

_**The older boy trailed off, not knowing what other words he could use to speak. But no words could comfort the younger boy who followed him, feeling both the agonizing pain and deadness this brought to his heart.**_

_**But that was nothing compared to the sudden aching he felt when his brother dragged him before the Akkadian palace of sandstone and clay. Before the steps stood a women with the same thick black hair, cooper colored skin, and majestic jaw-line as the two Akkadian boys who ran over to her. Yet her face was still hidden as she stood looking up to the palace doors.**_

"_**M-Mother?" The younger boy called out hesitantly.**_

_**The women turned, her almost regal beauty quickly evident. Yet the most fatal flaw with her beautiful face was the silent tears that ran down her cheeks from her dark eyes.**_

"_**My sons…" She breathed softly. **_

_**At once the two boys went to her side, and quickly wrapped their arms around her in an embrace. All three sharing the same pain in their hearts as well as their souls. The horrible sound of the cart that carried the Akkadian dead drew behind them. Letting go of her two sons, the boys mother turned to the cart as it slowed to a stop behind them.**_

_**Taking a deep breath, the youngest of the two Akkadian boys went to the cart. His hand going to the scimitar handle and pulled it out of the leather sheathe. Looking at his reflection in the blade he saw the reflection of his own eyes, looking haunted and burning with tears, as he looked to the fallen body of his father…**_

…The sad, strange, almost memory-like scene faded like the smoke from a fire. As soon the imaged blurred away, another took it's place. An image that must have been several years later…

…_**Night had fallen as five Akkadian children walked in line, all their wrists bound by catgut rope, all forced to walk behind a scarred face ruffian dressed in a old scarred cuirass, his graying hair in wild braids riding on a rather plain brown horse. It looked as if these fearful children were being paraded for all to see. None of them spoke a word since they all seemed to be in fear of what could happen if they did. Few of them bore cuts and bruises on their faces, other's where streaked with dust. One of these children stood out in a rather odd way, almost like a ring of gold in the desert sand.**_

_**A boy whom I knew, without a doubt, was the same young boy from the last memory. But now he looked older, perhaps eleven or twelve years of age now. He was still just a boy of course, no where close to a man. But he looked a bit wiser, and a bit taller as well. Those once shining brown eyes of his seemed to have a dull luster, and his dark hair fell to his shoulders, but he still wore the braids of an Akkadian trainee in combat.**_

_**He had to have been the oldest in this small group of Akkadian young ones. And the younger ones seemed to know this quite well, for each of them glanced at him unsure and slightly frightened until he returned their glance. Seemingly speaking comfort without saying a word to them. **_

_**Suddenly the ruffian turned his horse around a rocky bend to reveal a campsite of such. Flickering bonfires shone before tents of hide and cloth rose above the desert floor, all rather crude and shabby looking. All marked with strange decorations from various different tribes, all looking quite menacing in a child's eyes. Men of all size and color seemed to dwell in this camp as well with their women and children. All of them wore odd arrangement's of tunics, cuirasses, chain-mail, and leathers. But all of them seemed to have been marked the same.**_

_**This was a camp of bandits. Men whose only loyalty lied in the most number of duranas they could try to get out of traders pockets. Men driven by greed to raid, pillage, plunder, and even sell innocent people into lives of slavery.**_

_**Despite their fear the children could not help but quietly looked at their strange new surroundings, curiosity winning over their fear. Even that peculiar young boy seemed to be regarding this bandit camp with interest.**_

_**The ruffian led the Akkadian children to a large tent in the center. A tent marked with skulls on a large spear. Dismounting and tying his horse to a hitching post, the ruffian looked to the children, greed glinting in his black eyes. **_

_**"Come on you children of Akkadian whores!" He scoffed, laughing heartily as he untied the rope that bound them to saddle and jerked them into the tent.**_

_**It was dark in that circular room of cloth, yet the dying fire gave enough light to see three men who sat around the flames. All dressed in a strange array of tattered breeches, scarred cuirasses, tunics, chain mail, and other clothing I couldn't I identify. I couldn't truly make out the features of their faces but I could some how sense their manner.**_

_**These men were the leaders of this group of outcasts. Man who were heartless, only interested in the tribe and their own well being.**_

_**As soon as the ruffian led the poor children through the tent flap the three quickly greeted him like a brother in business.**_

_**"Aswad!" One of the three exclaimed sitting on a chair of leopard skins. "About damn time! How did the raid go?"**_

_**The ruffian turned to him, a bit of a sobering look on his face.**_

_**"We've had better raids I fear," Aswad, the ruffian replied.**_

_**"Indeed" Said another of the leaders, standing up from his throne like chair of wood and animal bone. **_

_**He paced before the terrified youths before him, observing them like they where objects rather then living breathing children. **_

_**"This is a rather scrawny crop, Aswad."**_

_**"Scrawny perhaps, but still able to serve food, and whatever else the bastards who buy them wish them to do."**_

_**"Indeed" Replied the third leader, as he sharpened his sword.**_

_**Suddenly the second leader of the camp stopped before the older Akkadian boy. Despite his shadowed face, the boy could see him raise and eyebrow. This boy didn't cower before him like all the other children did. Instead he looked in to the man's eyes. His defiance and disgust shining like a flame in the shadowed tent.**_

_**"Well, well, it appears you've not just brought us Akkadian whelps Aswad, but a young warrior as well."**_

_**"What?" spoke the tribal leader who had been sharpening his sword, looking up in surprise.**_

_**"We found that one trying to save one of the other young- ones. He was a bitch to capture that's for sure. He fought like a lion, but one swipe with a broad edge of a sword knocked him out." Aswad said proudly.**_

_**The man before the young warrior snorted.**_

_**"Sounds typical of the tribe who enjoys meddling in other's businesses."**_

_**Without warning, the boy lurched foreword, cracking his skull against the offending tribal leader. Gasps from Aswad, the other two tribal leaders, and even the Akkadian children filled the room. **_

_**The leader stumbled back several paces, his expression one of more surprise then pain. Finding his wits once more he walked to the boy and swung his large fist at his face. The boy didn't make a sound when the fist hit his jaw, he only turned back to the leader, and spat blood in his face.**_

_**"YOU LITTLE BASTARD!!!" He pulled out his sword, just when one of the other tribal leaders stopped him.**_

**_"Calm yourself, Sefu!" he said. "Remember, we have ways of taming ones like_ **him**_."_**

_**Sefu, the leader with his bronze sword in his hand looked to his fellow leader, then to the boy; who stared stonily back.**_

**_"Fine" Sefu barked, sheathing his sword. He turned to a guard who stood in the shadows of the tent's exit. _**

_**"Tie this loathsome son of a whore up where the sun strikes, with no shade, and no food or water for three days."**_

_**The man grunted, stepping foreword, undoing the ties that bound the boy with the rest of the Akkadian children, but not the ties around his wrist. He yanked the boy from the tent, but not before the young warrior gave a cruel grin.**_

_**For at that moment all the other children lifted their heads, there eyes like defiant as their older companion's…**_

…Instantly another memory played before me, giving me the feeling that this one was a day or so later…

… _**The boy was bound, hands above his head, to a pole in the unforgiving sunlight. Horrid bruises marking his arms and chest, his lower lip, and the place below his nose was caked with dry blood. Sweat trickled down his sunburned brow, yet he still held his head up high. He only glanced slightly as a dirty, gap toothed bandit approached him.**_

_**With a wicked smile on his face, the bandit offered the boy a drink from his clearly empty waterskin. The boy looked at his disgusted and spat bitterly in the bandits face.**_

_**In a sudden frenzy, the bandit began to start a flurry of punches as short as they were brutal. Once he was done with beating the boy he pulled away. Wiping the spit from his face and walking back down to the slope to the camp. But he didn't see the young boy smile, one of the bandit's rather small hair daggers cutting into his hand…**_

… Once again I shifted through memories to what must have been not too long after the last image…

…_**The boy, still bruised and bloodied crept silently through the tent, a dagger gleaming in his hand. A young girl, several years older then him, dressed in slave girl garb appeared before him, her dark eyes widened at what she saw, but the young boy put finger to his lips and motioned to the door of the tent.**_

_**At first she didn't under stand, then she nodded. Quickly disappearing through the tent flap. Meanwhile the boy followed to where the slave girl had been. Instantly finding a sleeping, nearly nude Sefu on his cot.**_

_**Filled with pulsing wrath he crept up to the mans side. Raising the dagger above the man's chest.**_

**_"_**This**_ is what's typical of Akkadian warriors, you half-wit," the boy said in a dark voice._**

_**Sefu instantly opened his eyes, just in time to see the young boy crash the blade down…**_

…Several images of a fire and the children escaping flew through my head briefly. But before I could focus more on them, another more powerful memory had shown before my eyes…

…_**It was grand place in ruin. Its great roof had somehow been torn off, it's tapestries where in shreds, small fires ruined the great marble floors, and a regal throne of leopard skin had been ripped apart.**_

_**In the center of the once grand throne room, lied a lined face man with silver hair and a simple crown on his brow. Yet I knew with out a doubt who this was, he could be no one else but the last king of the Akkadians.**_

_**This man was the great King Urmhet, and he was slowly dying from the bleeding inside his body.**_

_**Next to him was one of his trusted warriors, an oddly familiar man whose face showed signs of becoming as lined as the great kings, yet he still had a young air about him. A triangle was tattooed between his eye brows, lion like paw prints on his cheekbones, and he had a high brow and the dark hair of normal Akkadians.**_

_**Suddenly he was joined by a younger man of what must have been nineteen years. At once I felt a strange connection as I had with the young boy. Although his back was turned to me, I could see several scars mark the skin. As well as long dark hair braided in that of a warriors.**_

_**Conversation was exchanged by the young man and the great king. Yet I could not hear a word that was spoken. Not until the great king started to cough up a great deal of blood.**_

_**"King Urmhet!" the young man cried in shock and fear, never having seen his great king, a man who had been like his father since his true father died, in such a horrible state.**_

_**The king put on a determined face, and clasped the young man's shoulder as he would a son.**_

_**"You… Must… avenge… us…"**_

_**At with that the great king died…**_

…More and more images of violence and tragedy played behind my eyelids. All of them leading me to an odd glow, as if at the mouth a great cave. Then shortly after a scene that I witnessed atop a tent, where I watched two familiar Akkadians become showered with arrows from familiar looking guards in red turbans, there was a blinding light. And once again I fell into blackness.

---

I could feel something soft and feather-light touch my forehead. As well as a gentle voice calling my name, at first distantly, then gradually growing louder.

"Wake up, Sorceress, Wake up."

Not finding it in myself to refuse, I blearily opened my eyes. At first I couldn't focus on anything before me, but slowly I noticed the scents of water, grass, and lotus blossoms. I could also tell I was laying on something rather soft, a mattress perhaps. Then my eyes slowly focused on the scene before me.

I was in the water gardens of some palace, that was certain; above me was a roof of limestone, etchings of strange characters all around me. Above me was a sky of deep violet, emerald, and orange. Neither was I alone.

There sitting right next to me was a fearsome creature. It seemed stand taller then I did, and must have been almost as big as an small elephant. The creatures head was that of a man, but it's body was that of a massive lion.

I gave a gasp and jerked up instantly, just as a woman's voice spoke from the shadows.

"Fear not Cassandra, the Sphinx is not a creature that harms those who are taken by _us_ into this realm".

Hearing her voice the great creature stood up on it's four legs, its eyes looking once more into mine, and walked past me into the dark shadows of the garden. Meanwhile, I turned to where I heard that voice. At once its owner stepped before me.

She was a regally fair woman, who seemed… Oddly familiar from somewhere, as if from a dream.

Her dark eyes seemed to be specked with bits of gold; her long raven hair had a deep blue glow to it, and her skin the color of copper. She was dressed in regal white robes, gold necklaces at her throat and bracelets on her wrists. I could just a golden headdress crowning her dark hair, yet I could not make out the odd figure atop it just yet for my head started to reel. I could almost swear I heard her give a chuckle.

"Most mortals don't perform the type of ceremony you did and instantly jump right up to finish their usual chores, Cassandra," She informed me with a laugh in her voice, striding up to where I was.

"Most mortals can't perform the ceremony at all," I couldn't help but point out a little rudely, laying my head back.

This time I knew I heard her laugh.

"Indeed, if that where true, then Apep truly would have even greater hell in his realm to the Gates to the Living."

I heard her words, yet I couldn't understand their meaning just then. My head seemed to lurch and spin. Rubbing my temple, I softly asked her, "Where am I?"

"Well, certainly not the Western Fields of Paradise. Not yet anyway, Sorceress."

At once I was confused. _The Western Fields of Paradise? But that would mean that I had… that I had died. How-?_ Then the image of the Akkadian warrior I had fallen in love with pulling an arrow-head from his own flesh before pitching forward into the sand filled my memory. I jerked up once more, my heart seemingly stopped at the memory.

"Oh Great Gods, Mathayus!" I cried suddenly.

Ignoring my spinning head I turned to the women.

"Please, I **_beg_** of you, tell me he's not-"

"Fear not," She replied. "He isn't, thanks to you."

At once a flood of relief passed though me into my soul, I could feel my heart start pounding once more. Reviling to me truly how desperately, and deeply I had come to love him. Carefully, I lied my head back down just as the women continued.

"You truly did a risky deed, you know, you weren't _quite_ ready for such a ceremony but lucky for you Auset, Djehuti, and I heard your cry. Especially with all the mortals being ushered to Maat's scales these past moons."

At first I felt a bit of an odd taken aback feeling, as my mind stopped spinning. Remembering my prayer I suddenly turned to the women once more. _She claimed that she knew the goddess Auset and the god Djehuti? But how-?_ Suddenly I could clearly see the figure atop her headdress.

It was a golden scorpion! It's intricate singer poised to attack, it's red jeweled eyes glinting in the light.

I couldn't help but gasp. _Could she be…?_

"You… You're…" I felt started to stutter like a surprised child. "You are…"

At once a wry smile lit the women's face.

"Ah! I see you're wits are returning." She replied in an almost playful voice.

I couldn't help but stare at her, my mouth partly open in surprise.

This wasn't just any women. This was the feared and respected Selqit. The goddess who, both, nearly killed a noblewomen's child for spurning the wandering Auset and also who helped with the birthing of the great god Horus.

At once I lowered my eyes respectfully. Internally scolding myself for such work I had spoken earlier.

"I apologize, Great Goddess Who Makes One Breath. Had I known who I was speaking to I can assure you I wouldn't have been so curt." I spoke softly, my voice filled with great reverence.

In the corner of my eye, I could see the goddess shake her head.

"No need for titles, royal protocol, or apologizes for that matter, Cassandra." Selqit replied.

I looked up to her, filled with questioning. Somehow she must have sensed such. She gave me another smile, like a friend would give another before she once again spoke.

"You are one of Our children whom We gifted with the gift with the Gift of Sight," Selqit told me. "We brought you here, and you are a guest."

I nodded, feeling very honored at once to be such.

"Now, you perhaps maybe wondering what it was that you went though, and why in all the Sands of Time, that We brought you here," The Goddess spoke suddenly, her tone suddenly as businesslike as that of a Gomorrahian trader

Once again I nodded, a rare smile flickering on my face.

"Well, it did cross my mind I suppose you could say," I replied.

She nodded, the smile flickering on her face shortly before a serious look replaced it.

"When you preformed the ceremony, something happened that we have never seen until now. You of course know, that the curing ceremony involves taking the essence of the illness into yourself. But when you did such, something more happened… Something that only happens when a mortal's heart is weighed in judgement. "

"What exactly?"

Selqit looked to me, her golden flicked eyes looking into mine.

"You beings became entwined, and you received a glimpse into the Akkadian's soul."

At once my breath caught. My mind once again started spinning but now with the images of violence and tragedy.

"You mean those images where..."

"Memories. Moments in time that crafted your Akkadian into the man he is. Pains inflicted onto him. Scars so deep that even his own soul bores them."

"And that young boy that is, _was, _the man I tried to save?"

"Indeed, they are one and the same."

I fell into silence. Those images clearly resurfacing in my mind. If those where truly the memories and events that happened in Mathayus' life, then he was more of a warrior then I even thought he was. How could such a brutal being have such an innate goodness that, despite the horrid losses and pains inflicted on them at such a young age, and still not become tarnished by the evils of man? How could such a ruthless assassin have the beating heart of a great and fair king? Lord Memnon could_ never _come close to such a character no matter how many times he claimed to be to his soldiers.

A new respect for Mathayus flowed in my veins, and my love for him seemed to grow and flourish in my heart like a well cultivated flower. I looked back to the Goddess.

"It that why you brought me here?" I asked her. "To tell me such."

"That is one reason." She replied. "Another is to give you a simple warning, since I cannot speak of any more the you need to know."

I felt my throat tightening at the dark feeling of foreboding that pricked my skin.

"As you know the Time of the Prophecy will soon fall upon mortals," Selqit told me in a voice as strong as stone. "History and Legend shall be created on that night. Everything, from the world you know now, to the world that will be, will change. A great empire will rise or fall, and you, Cassandra, still have a great role to play in this plan."

A great shiver went down my spine. Fear flooding in my veins. I swallowed hard at what I feared that meant.

"Do you mean my role… by the Great Teacher's side?" I spoke quietly, my voice a small whisper.

I could have sworn I saw her eyes flicker at the sound of Memnon's title, but I must have imagined it.

"No, this is a role that will soon come to you." Selqit told me, her voice haunting. "Only remember this: destiny is sometimes written in stone, other times… well, the smallest of things can create the greatest of changes."

I looked to her curiously, my fear replaced as I became baffled at the Goddesses vague, riddle-like message. But before I could ask anymore questions, she looked to me. Lifting her hand suddenly.

"Take care of yourself Cassandra. Take care of your Mathayus as well… he too as a role to play in this moment of Legend as well. I count on you to watch out for him, he may be a warrior, but even warrior's need someone by their side. Especially one who have no one."

Selqit seemed to speak of Mathayus in a strangely gentle way, in fact it was almost...

_Motherly,_ I thought

It was then, as she looked to me I realized how her noble brow, her golden flecked eyes, and her fair yet regal face seemed to resemble another women… A strong women who, despite the tears running down her face held both of her sons in her arms, sharing in their pain including one young boy who would later become one of the most feared assassins in the known world.

But just as realization dawned on me, she gently touched my forehead. Like a spark of flame, a light burst behind my eyes. Leaving all other thoughts beside Selqit's riddle-like warning, and the images of Mathayus' past behind. There was once again the sensation of falling into a golden light, with winds whipping around me like the sandstorm I saw not to long ago.

Then everything, fell into the golden light.


	12. Just an Oasis

_**C**HAPTER **11**_

_**J**UST AN **O**ASIS_

_"People seem not to see that their opinion of the world is also a confession of their character"_

********

_**-Ralph Waldo Emerson**_

**B**learily, I awoke to a light wind brushing across my face. I felt the rays from the sun on my skin as Ra saw fit to sail across the skies from the underworld. I attempted to open my eyes yet, as if waking from a night of fever dreams, I had awakened so drained and beaten that I couldn't find my strength just yet.

I could hear voices speaking, familiar voices yet they made no sense whatsoever.

"… cured you! I _knew_ it! …her magic! I could _see _it!" one of the voices cried out in pure joy.

It took awhile for my churning, rushing mind to recognize that voice. _The Horse Thief_!

But why did he sound so happy?

I received my answer almost instantly in the form a groggy voice that sounded as if its owner was at my side. A voice that seem to make my heart race, and stop it's pounding at the same time is such a thing was possible.

"_Cured me? _She…"

Almost in response, I felt my strength start to return. As if the owner of that voice held a power to regenerate my exhausted will. In the meantime I could hear the voices continued their chatter.

"It almost killed her, but the gods were on our side! She's more than just a pretty face, Partner. That I can tell you right now," Arpid informed the man at my side.

Then a warmth filled my face; a warmth that came from the feeling of a certain pair of dark eyes looking upon me. Instantly, I felt myself come alive. I pried open my eyes. At first my sight was unfocused, and then everything became clear as I turned to the human god at my side. His dark eyes reflecting his surprise.

_Mathayus was alive! _

Just as the goddess promised _he was alive!_ He appeared to be suffering a headache, yet he was still breathing. I suddenly felt the odd urge to cry out from joy and throw my arms around him, but I shoved this need aside. Yet I could not help the small smile that I could feel come on to my face.

Neither could I notice how the sun seemed to rise behind Mathayus' form, rather than the horizon behind him. As if the waking of this awe-inspiring warrior was enough to signal the day. It was a moment that faded the Akkadian before me into eternity. And in this moment I felt something pass between us, something that made the stifling desert air around us… almost overwhelming.

Suddenly Mathayus broke eye contact. Turning away from me he looked slightly awkward, as if he had done something out of turn.

"We should break camp," He advised suddenly.

Arpid and I didn't argue; although I couldn't help but feel slightly concerned due to Mathayus' strange actions. We packed our blankets and other camping supplies onto one of Henna's saddle bags, speaking bits here and there but not a word of what had transpired last night.

Once the remnants of the of last night's campfire had died and was hidden in the sands Arpid and I climbed onto the saddles of the two surviving horses from the Red Guard's band, while Mathayus rode astride his loyal camel.

We must have ridden for awhile, perhaps and hour or so, speaking bits and pieces to each other. Then Mathayus suddenly spoke, turning to me as I rode by his side.

"I want to thank you," He told me softly, as if trying to find words.

I turned away from him; smiling to myself as a rush of gratitude and love filled me for the man who rode at my side. Yet, I turned to him, my face blank. Not allowing him to see how I truly felt. Not yet for fear of what his reaction would be.

"No thanks are needed Mathayus," I replied to him easily.

"But why?" Mathayus suddenly said, puzzled. "Why would you do it Cassandra? Why would you risk your life for mine? After how I treated you…"

I could feel my cheeks start to enflame from a strange thrumming of my heart. Still determined to hide my feelings as it had been my habit, I thought quickly.

"You had no way of knowing my past, Mathayus. I do not blame you for what you did," I told him truthfully. "Besides, if you had died Akkadian, where would we-?"

But I was never able to continue my sentence for at that moment a loud _boom_ echoed throughout the desert, shaking the ground below us like Geb's laughter. Not expecting such a disturbance the horses started rearing up, whining in fear, and neighing in obvious distress.

"Whoa," I said soothingly to the mare I had chosen to ride.

Still she seemed slightly skittish, I eased into the horse's mind giving her my calmness and taking away her fear. It wasn't long until she seemed to more herself and less of the fearful animal she was before.

Arpid, however, seemed to have the worst luck in calming his horse down as the mare kept rearing up, it's eyes shining with fear.

"Calm down!" The gruff thief tried, in vain, to comfort the animal, "Please calm down you beast!"

Yet the horse just seemed to rear up more and more. Soon the reins flew out of Arpid's hands, forcing the man the throw his arms helplessly around the terrified animal's neck, perhaps scaring the poor horse even more so.

Mathayus rolled his eyes, simply bent as far forward as he could without falling out of Henna's saddle, and snatched the wild horse's reins out of the air. The Warrior held onto the reins as long as he could until the horse finally calmed down, before tossing them back to the surprised-none the less relived-Arpid.

"And you wondered why those soldiers in Memnon's camp didn't believe you when you claimed to be a High Priest of Set," Mathayus told the horse thief sardonically. "Perhaps you may have been better off if you claimed to be a _horse trainer_."

I bit my tongue to keep from laughing at Mathayus' words, and especially from the look the small thief gave the mighty warrior in response. He looked like he was just about to shoot a reply back when I decided to speak up.

"What on earth do you think that sound was?"

Both men turned to me, both not answering just yet as they pondered my question.

"Thunder?" Arpid ventured to guess suddenly scanning the sky. "But there are no clouds."

It was then the wind started to blow. Leaving us with a rather peculiar and slightly familiar scent that seemed to make our nostrils twitch.

"Thunder perhaps, but not the kind that one would normally guess," Mathayus spoke suddenly pointing to a nearby rocky crag.

At once we spotted a cloud of a certain ashy color come from the rocks, wafting like smoke does from a fire. And a figure seemed to be running from it, yet, even from a distance I could see the man's glee.

"It works! It _works_!" We could hear him cry.

Then he froze suddenly, like a practicing performer would when discovering he now held an audience. I could see him glance at the Horse Thief, Mathayus, and then his eyes stopped on me. It was then I realized I knew this man who was smeared in a strange black substance, and he knew me as well.

"Milady !" He called. "How wonderful to see you in this desolate place!"

"The same can be said for you Philos, my friend!" I called, feeling a smile come to my face.

"Let me show you!" He said gesturing to the now fading pillar of smoke behind him. "IT WORKS!"

I glanced at Mathayus who only shook his head good naturedly and prodded him camel to kneel down. A small smile came to my face as I dismounted.

"You know this man?" Arpid asked me as he dismounted.

I nodded, but before I could explain how Mathayus replied.

"He's Memnon's scientist, and court magician."

I glanced at him curiously, before he gave me a look that said very simply _"We've met."_ I bit my bottom lip try not to smile as I wondered what had happened in Philos' haven back at the place, as well as _when_ it had happened.

Once we had reached to the top to the rocky crag, I couldn't help but let a true smile come to my face. I petted the nose my mare urging her to stay put as I walked towards my old friend.

Like he had done every other day he kissed both my hands and bowed low.

"Milady Sorceress," He spoke with a wide grin that made me feel he had now reverted back to a child. "I have finally found the missing component for my Chinese formula. My magic power works!"

Motioning around the little basin we stood in at that moment Philos couldn't help but add. "All it needed was salt, peats of salt. It was hear all the time. In fact this place is just filled with it. Curious indeed, but one of the god's gifts to the desert I'll say. By the way…"

He looked to us carefully.

"Do you three happen to have any water? I'm utterly out."

After Mathayus quickly inspected the three water skin pouches we had we discovered that, like my friend, our water supply was dry as well. When we asked him if he knew of a oasis nearby, the Akkadian honestly replied he couldn't be sure. It was then clever Philos suggested we search the sky for birds.

"After all, if there are birds there must be a food source for them out here in this desert."

Indeed we searched the sky until we found ourselves at an oasis that one could only dream about in this barren landscape. It was lush with date trees, green grasses, and cool aqua pool of water that seem to come from a source within the center of the oasis.

It was at this water we were instantly drawn. Letting our animals graze on the grasses nearby. Like Philos, I knelt before the cool water's edge cupping my hands putting them underwater. I was about to drink when I stopped. Remembering of rumors of springs poisoned by something unseen I turned to Mathayus who had appeared standing at my side.

"Do we dare?" I asked. "It's it safe to drink."

I had to remember how to breathe as he knelt down beside me. He was so close, so _very_ close. Oblivious to this, Mathayus ever so slightly touched my cupped hands to get a better look. Perhaps he was touching my hand to see if something was on the surface of the water that was slipping slowly between my fingers. Yet I couldn't help but feel a strange sensation from that simple touch, like it had left my hand scorched. I had to restrain the shiver that went through my body.

Yet my mind couldn't help but think of how I almost lost him. What would have happened if the ceremony had gone horribly wrong? What would have taken place if the gods had not heard my call?

Suddenly the Akkadian's eyes met mine, as if he knew what I was thinking. He seemed ready to speak when suddenly there was a loud whooping cry. We both turned to see Arpid running recklessly towards the pool.

"YAHOO!" The Hose Thief cried as he leapt into the spring like a playful child, splashing loudly as he was submerged in the water.

I couldn't help but laugh a bit at this, as Mathayus answered my question with a small smirk on his face.

"Not any more."

Shaking my head at the warrior's jest I drank the water down. My dear friend Philos took a gulp of the water before he started surveying the cool liquid, as if making several observations. I could tell that the self-proclaimed scientist was already thinking of another experiment. Meanwhile, Mathayus quickly got to work filling our water skins for the remainder of our journey.

It was then several questions entered my mind, I turned to the warrior at my side.

"Do you know where we are?" I asked.

"I think I do, but I'm not entirely sure," Mathayus replied.

I looked him curiously.

"Well, do you know where we will go?"

Mathayus took a deep breath.

"Cassandra, you'll have to forgive me at the moment," He told me. "I feel as though I have been brought back from the underworld a bit prematurely and, I admit, I can't seem to think clearly just yet."

I nodded, gently touching his arm I offered him a smile.

"It's understandable, you were, quite literally brought back from the brink of Asar's kingdom. It will take some time for you to get your bearing back. I will save my questions until then."

It was then a peculiar look crossed the warrior's face. He looked around the oasis as if searching the area for something.

"Mathayus? What-?"

"Quiet," He shushed suddenly, his hand going to his sheathed scimitar.

As soon as he spoke silence rang through the oasis. Then it was as if several mounds of Philos' magic power where lit around us as the earth suddenly burst ringing around our small group! From these bursts men appeared dressed in leather's, animal skins, throwing aside the grass mats they used to hide themselves below. Gasps issued from Philos and myself, while Mathayus had his scimitar out and ready for battle. Yet we both knew it was no use, these men outnumbered us thirteen to four; not to mentions all of them bore bows, arrows knocked, aimed at our throats, and ready to let fly.

"Oh dear," Philos breathed, and I couldn't help but agree.

"Bandits," Mathayus growled, his voice filled with recognition as well as the understanding that he knew he was outnumbered.

It was then Arpid suddenly resurfaced soaking wet and a smile on his face.

"I'm alive!" He exclaimed, splashing the water playfully. "I'm alive!"

It was then he stopped as he spotted us frozen by the waterside, and the bandits that encircled our group a few of which had now trained their bows on him.

"For the moment," He managed out weakly as he lifted his arms in surrender.

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_Author's note- I'm so very very sorry this chapter took so long. I swore I posted it eons ago so I was shocked when I read over this one and saw I hadn't updated it! Shame on me I know. I just wanna thank you guys who have been following it from day one. My updates have been terrible on this one, I know. But I can promise you all this much: I will have this story completed one day. I love it too much to let it go. It may take awhile as I am working on a bunch of other things but it ******will **be done._


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